Room
by teammaddison
Summary: AU STORY: When a pregnant Addison disappears from Seattle Derek convinces everyone she left him to make a new life for herself in Los Angeles. When no one can reach her, and concerns are raised police cannot prove foul play and the mystery of her disappearance goes cold. Only Derek holds the key to what really happened to his wife and unborn child. Rated M for Mature
1. Chapter 0- Disclaimers and Such

**Title:** Room

 **Author:** TeamMaddison

 **Disclaimer: **This version of Room deals with mature topics as domestic violence, captivity, sexual assault, mention of late term miscarriages, depression etc. Based off of the 2015 movie Room, but in a Grey's Anatomy / Private Practice universe. I know that there have been others who have done this, but I wanted to have my go at it too. While still containing adult themes Room is less graphic and milder than In My Blood and Breaking Free

 **Description:** When a pregnant Addison disappears from Seattle Derek convinces everyone she left him to make a new life for herself in Los Angeles. When no one can reach her, and concerns are raised police cannot prove foul play and the mystery of her disappearance goes cold. Only Derek holds the key to what really happened to his wife and child as he begins a new life with Meredith. Addison meanwhile gives birth to their son in captivity and raises him in as nurturing and loving environment as she can have given the circumstances. When the boy turns 5 Addison begins to plot their escape from the only home he's ever known to give him a life free of captivity. Will they be able to escape, or will they be stuck forever in "room"? Rated M for Mature.

 **Authors Note:** Addison is taken at the end of Season 3 around the time she left in the series for LA. I am placing the description, disclaimer, and such here so that it is not needed at the beginning of every single chapter. This way will make for a neater presentation.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

 ***CHRISTMAS DAY 2008***

' _Of course, HE wouldn't come tonight of all nights.'_ I grumble to myself. It's Christmas, what did I expect? He is probably screwing Meredith in a supply closet somewhere. I don't want to depend on him. I have 13 years of proof that I can't depend on him. Regardless, I need him. I need someone. I need to be in a hospital. Babies are meant to be born in hospitals not on the dirty floor of a one-room shack. I guess it's better that he's not here though. I cannot let my desperation for human contact blind me to what's going on here. This is wrong. So wrong. I bang on the locked door, begging for help as a contraction comes so strong that it makes me double over. It's coming. The baby is coming, and I'm fucked. Who locks their pregnant wife up in a soundproof one-room house made from a storage shed? He comes EVERY NIGHT, even when he is angry. Where is HE?

' _Maybe this is it. Maybe this is how I'll die.'_ I pace back and forth. I am beginning to panic more as the baby moves further down. I have _years_ of training, but I don't know what to do. At this moment I am not a world-class neonatal surgeon. I am not a double board certified top of my class OBGYN. I am a woman in unmediated labor; I am a captive. I am in pain, and I am afraid. I have all the knowledge and expertise to deliver this baby. Saving babies is what I do, but in my world with medical equipment, medication, and a top of the line neonatal unit with a staff of 120. Not here.

I play a mind game to calm myself. A list of things you know to be true _. My name is Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery Shepherd. I am 39 years old._ I look up at the tick marks I have made on the wall. _I've been here for 7 months. 213 days. 306,720 Minutes. 18,403,200 Seconds. I am 40 weeks and 2 days pregnant._ I take a deep breath, releasing the fear that has been building up inside of me leading up to the baby's birth. I have reason to be concerned, perhaps more than others. I am a doctor. I know everything that can go wrong. No use in worrying now though is there?

 _It's Christmas, and I'm in labor. I've been having contractions for 12 hours._ It has been 24 hours since my water broke in the nightly ritual of him forcing himself on me. When he was finished, he smacked me hard across the face, as if it was MY fault his night didn't go as planned. _I am 8cm dilated and effaced. I can't stop this. My baby will be here today._

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 ***FLASHBACK CHRISTMAS EVE 2008***

' _Derek please I have to go to a hospital. I can't deliver it here. The risk of infection alone….' I begged, I grabbed onto him, holding onto him with all my strength._

" _There's no point. You're toxic. It's just going to die like the others. Get off me!"_

 _This stung. Our twin daughters made it to 20 weeks before they were brought into this world stillborn. Then our son who was stillborn at 17 weeks, and 5 first trimester losses. I should have stopped trying years ago, but he was insistent we have children of our own, no matter the cost. 13 years is a long time. I've done all the tests. There is no medical reason I should not be able to carry a healthy child to term._

" _Derek, please… Maybe if we go to the hospital this one will be ok-" I start, it is moving, and I take his hand, placing it on my stomach forcefully. He usually won't touch me unless it has something to do with using me as his sex toy. It didn't used to be this way. Everything has changed. He almost smiles when the baby pushes against his hand, but his expression goes cold as he stands and pulls on his clothing, getting ready to leave._

" _My decision is final. I am not going to help you clean up the mess you've made for yourself." He pulls away from me, making it across the room and out the door before I can even get up. I hear the locks clicking into place as he types in the code, and once again I am alone. He was able to put 1 + 1 together to realize that the baby was conceived the night he caught Mark and I in the on-call room. Why did God or whoever decided that THIS baby, out of all the babies we lost would be the one to survive?_

" _Derek I'm sorry!" I scream as the final lock clicks, and I fall to my knees, in angry, desperate tears._

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I know it's my fault he is keeping me here. I quit my job. I told Richard I was leaving for a better life. Derek would never have done this if I didn't try to go. I make myself believe this. I psych myself out and distract myself from what's happening to me. I lean heavily on the old bed frame. The baby is moving so forcefully that I am forced to my knees at the toilet, vomiting uncontrollably. I find myself feeling thankful that he locked me up in the 13-year-old "man cave.". It is rundown, but it has an old TV, an old bed with blankets. It has air-conditioning and heat, although he has put a lock on the thermostat, so it is never QUITE cool enough or warm enough to combat the harsh Seattle weather. It has a bathtub, with running water, a toilet that flushes, and a kitchenette. He "visits" daily but will bring food once a week.

I force myself to think. I get a pot and start to boil some water, thinking maybe I could sanitize something to cut the cord with, but things are progressing too quickly, and I do not have anything to sever or to clamp the cord with anyway. I asked Derek to bring me a birthing kit from the hospital, but he refused. He is smart enough to know I cannot be trusted with sharps. At least he managed re-usable diapers and some baby clothes and extra blankets in the last few days. Maybe at the very least, it won't freeze to death.

Breathing begins to hurt too much as I continue to pace the floor. There is almost no resting time in between contractions now. I look at the clock on the wall — every 60 seconds. I am exhausted. I need to rest. Please God let me rest, even if it is just for a little while.

A quick check and I know it won't be too much longer. The baby is beginning to crown. I swear loudly as the urge to push takes over again, and I can't help my body complying. It's like that riddle "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound?" "If a mom is in labor and she screams but…" Well, you get the point. I am sweating and sticky with the effort my body is putting into getting this baby out. I cannot get comfortable. I don't know how to be submissive. I don't know how just to let mother nature take its course. I keep myself up and moving, stopping only to push or to throw up. Check — minimal progress. I step into the bathtub letting my back rest against the cold metal. When planning every single detail of my child's birth a waterbirth was never a part of the plan, but right now I would kill for a tub of hot water to ease the pain. I would kill to have Mark here holding me instead of cold metal. I would kill for a lot of things right now. The pain is intensifying with each contraction, and I find myself having a hard time regulating my breathing.

I make a song in my head, with each of the smaller pushes.

' _Push Breathe. Push Breathe. Push Push Breathe.'_

I try and convince my brain that my actions are a game to keep myself from completely losing control and hyperventilating. Completely consumed by what's happening I cannot think of anything else. I repeat this series of smaller pushes and breathing until with one final push the baby is born. At some point, I had leaned forward pushing. I collapse against the back of the tub and bring the baby boy to my chest, clearing his airway. I rub his chest and oxygen flow through his tiny body, his skin quickly pinking up. He lets out a whimper, and then a scream.

"Oh my gosh, you're ok!" I am crying all over him, pure relief as I breathe in the sweet baby scent for a few moments before he begins rooting. I push the top of my nightgown down, and he latches. He is here. He is here, and he is alive. Even if our circumstances are not the best he is OK, and that at this moment is everything. I feel a wave of guilt when the thought 'and I will never be alone again.' Trickles through my mind. Almost instantly he begins nursing though, and I turn my attention back to the tiny life in my arms. I watch him and realize that I love him more than anyone or anything in this world. I push down hard on my stomach, kneading it. When the placenta is delivered, I place it safely in a bowl and move baby and the container. I have had several of my patients request a Lotus birth in the past, and while not traditional It can be just as safe. I stand up carefully and move Emmerson and the bowl to the bed where I diaper him and swaddle him tightly to preserve his body temperature. I hear the locks jingling outside, and fear runs through me. What will HE do if he finds him here? Will he take him? Will he allow me to keep him? I swallow hard. Will, he hurt him? I have just enough time to lay the little bundle in the wardrobe and whisper "I love you Emmerson" before Derek walks through the door.

"You look like shit." He mumbles narrowing his eyes at me. My hair is still damp and matted from the effort of bringing a new life into this world, my nightgown stained red and has a patch of vomit from when I threw up mid push and couldn't move to the toilet quickly enough. The smell of vomit and childbirth lingers through the air.

"I'm sorry," I say softly, I lean to turn the water on, preparing to take a cold bath but the baby begins crying in the wardrobe and I freeze.

"You had the baby." He says with no real emotion. Merely a statement of fact.

"I did." I hold my breath waiting for his next move.

"Let me see it." He demands, his voice dangerous.

"No!" I move as quickly as I can to the wardrobe, but he gets there first, pushing me away hard. I lose my footing and fall to the ground against the locked door that leads to the real world. To freedom. He locks it from the inside with a unique code every time he comes in. When he leaves, he closes it from the outside. I will never be free. It takes a second before I can move again. I look up, and he is holding Emmerson in his arms. I feel sick with fear.

"Please don't hurt him," I beg. "Derek I'll do anything."

"It's a boy? He looks just like you." A look of disgust flashes through his eyes, and then something else, remorse maybe? He runs his fingers through the baby's crimson hair. "What did you call him?"

"His name is Emmerson." I move slowly towards them. Derek sat down on the bed, and I sat beside him, a sudden spark of inspiration through my exhaustion. "This is our baby Derek." Maybe allowing him to believe the child was his would grant the child at least the tiniest bit of protection.

"I should kill you both right now. You disgust me." He spits, thrusting the newborn into my arms. "Put him back in the wardrobe. I don't want to look at him." OK, so that wasn't a great plan. I try again from a slightly different angle. I am so used to his death threats that unless he is coming at me, they don't even bother me anymore.

"He's a miracle, Derek." I get one of the extra blankets and make him sort of a nest, laying him carefully down trying to soothe him in those few seconds. He looked at me with wary apprehension but stayed quiet as I closed the wardrobe door.

"That may be so, but he's not mine, and you're not a very good liar." The moment the wardrobe door was closed Derek forces me down onto the bed, and I disassociate, it's the easiest and fastest way for him to get what he came for. Before I learned to disassociate I fought too much. I always ended up black and blue. This is just…. Better, muscle memory. My body can 'perform' without my mind being an active participant. No one gets hurt this way. It doesn't work this time though. I can't keep my focus. I keep thinking about my son. Thinking of how different his life could be, if only we were free. Tears fall down my cheeks.

"What's wrong with you?" He asks when he is finished, and I shake my head.

"Please don't take him from me, Derek. He needs me."

"No one needs you, Addison."

"You do, otherwise you'd let me go." My cheek earns me a busted lip as he backhands me in the mouth.

"You are mine, and you will stay here in Room until I say otherwise."

"What did I EVER do to you?!" I scream.

"Nothing…. You did nothing Addison which is precisely why you're here."

"13 YEARS. 13 birthdays'. 13 anniversaries, 13 Christmas's. We have History Derek… is that really nothing?" I run my fingers through my tangled hair. Our marriage wasn't perfect, but we were working things out. When I said I was leaving for LA, he snapped, and everything changed.

"If you think I would let your adulterous love child come between Meredith and I you are delusional. Do you know she is convinced its MINE? I don't know what the truth is, and clearly neither do you, but NO ONE will ever know about this…. mistake." He glances over towards the wardrobe before getting dressed and storming out the door, slamming it behind him without another word. I wait until I hear the locks clicking before I rush to the wardrobe trembling and take Emmerson into my arms, holding him tightly and kissing his little forehead. Unable to stop the tears. Fearful I may drop him I am trembling so bad. Unable to stop the rush of frustrated tears, today had just been too long.

I lay down on my side on the bed and situate Emmerson so he can nurse. He looks up at me with those baby blue eyes and my anger with Derek melts away. I need to take care of Emmerson. No matter what cost I must pay. He WILL have as healthy of a childhood as possible even if it means being trapped in this cell of a room with me.

"Emmerson it is imperative you listen to what I say," I tell him, and he stops nursing for a second and looks up at me, half milk drunk as if his 4-hour old self was really paying attention.

"I'm your Momma. Believe what I say. You are strong. You are brave. You are not a mistake. You are a miracle, and I love you."

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 **Authors Note:** Thank you to everyone who has read Chapter 1 of Room. So much milder than "Breaking Free", and a different kind of writing intenseness than "In My Blood". I am basing it loosely off the movie "Room", but not completely. It is so easy to write Derek as creepy. I'm sorry guys but he just creeps me out. Even watching the show, I find him creepy. Maybe it is because he is so dang perfect and good looking and could easily talk his way out of anything. **Please** as always let me know what you think in the review section below!


	3. Chapter 2

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 **Authors Note:** _I do skip around a bit in this chapter between current time_

 _(2013) and the past. Flashbacks will be boxed off like this and labeled_

 _ ***FLASHBACK***_ _Thank you for reading and reviewing!_

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 **Chapter 2:**

"Wake up… Momma, I'm five!" Emmerson whispers, he pushes me gently, waking me. I grab him smiling and pulling him close. He doesn't even have to try to make me smile. He is my world, my everything. Just his existence is enough.

"Five? Wow already? Are you sure?" I ask, teasingly still half asleep.

"Yesterday I was _FOUR_ and today I am _FIVE_."

"You are, such a big boy now," I say hugging him tight and then tickling him until he turns pink, gasping for breath with laughter, and summersaults off the bed. "FIVE – FIVE – FIVE ." He spells repeatedly, as he starts his morning routine. Saying 'good morning' to everything in our tiny space, and touching them gently, almost as if he was thanking them for their service to us.

'Good morning bed.'

'Good morning sink'

'Good morning wardrobe'

I climb out of bed, carefully spreading the thinning duvet over top. Nothing like the Egyptian cotton blankets we had on our bed before. I shake my head, trying not to think of _'before.'_. It's dark and the air is crisp. Only a tiny bit of light shines through the freshly fallen show covering the skylight.

"Good morning lamp." I say, turning it on as light floods the room.

"Good morning table" He answers dancing around room and sitting down at one of the two chairs. "Can we have cereal for break fast? Please?!"

"Sure." I ty not to think of the cringe worthy ingredients. Of how different, healthy of a diet he would have if only if….

"No counts?" He asks, and I give him a weary look.

"Emmerson you know we-"

"But Momma it's my BIRTHDAY and it's CHRISTMAS!"

"OK, but only because it's a special occasion, we still can't have too much, just one bowl." I agree, pouring him the last of the Dora the Explorer star buffs and adding a little milk. I'll find something to eat later on. I do not need as much as he does to suffice. I am used to being without. I am not a growing child. Food is hard, I know I must ration everything to make sure there is enough to last until HE decides to bring groceries again. I know that neither of us get enough nourishment as we need. It kills me, but I had to request a lock for the refrigerator, and one on the tiny pantry. Emmerson kept sneaking food overnight, quiet as a little mouse and rotating between binge eating until he was sick and leaving it to waste. We cannot afford to waste. We need every little scrap of food we can get.

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 ***FLASH BACK***

 **December 28** **th** **2008**

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"He needs infant multivitamins, vitamin d and iron drops." I say after Derek has entered Room with a draft of icy air and the door slams shut. My signal that I can speak. I am not allowed even a single word until the soundproof door is shut. I want to hide Emmerson from him, but I can't. It is 8pm. Derek always comes to Room at 8pm, but Emmerson woke to nurse and wasn't finished when he arrived.

"You're breastfeeding." Derek observed, raising an eyebrow. I'm not sure what else he expected me to do. It's not like he provided me with bottles and formula. Maybe he was just taken aback that I was breastfeeding NOW when we were supposed to be….

"My diet isn't nourishing enough to support healthy milk production." My chest aches with the newfound heaviness of milk. My expression clouds and my lip trembles as memories of our twin's swim forward. I wasn't expecting it to, but my milk came in fully even though they were born sleeping barley half way through the pregnancy. My diet was much better then though. I was _healthy_. I spent months pumping their milk and storing it so carefully. I guess it was just a part of grieving. When my milk first came in I was screened and approved as a human donor at Seattle Grace. Every couple of days I took the milk that I had pumped with me to work and delivered it to the babies in need in the NICU. At least SOMETHING positive had come from their loss. On their 1st birthday I dropped off the last donation and cried as I got the shot to make my milk dry up. When I left the hospital that day I felt something that I hadn't felt in a long time.

Peace.

"Your diet is fine." He says, and I narrow my eyes at him. I can't even remember the last time I've had a proper meal that is not canned, or highly processed with god only knows what levels of chemicals and other carcinogenic ingredients in them. It makes me feel ill and I never eat much. Lucky for me because he rarely brings enough food to last a week. I can see my bones when I look in the mirror. I've been here so long that this is my normal, but I hate it. I struggle to remember how I looked before. Was my hair always this thin? Did I always have such dark circles under my eyes? Were my cheeks always _this_ hallow? I need vitamins too.

"What am I going to look like buying baby vitamins?" He asked, and I grimace. It is 2008, not 1950. Who care what he buys? I can smell the whisky on his breath when he speaks. Why is he only decent to me when he's been drinking? It seems like the opposite would be true.

"Probably the same way you looked when you bought diapers and baby clothing." I say shrugging my shoulders unconcerned.

"Oh? And how is that?" He asks. His voice is weird, and I wonder if he is going to hit me.

"Like a father." I say carefully. His expression is turning dangerous, and I decide not to press him any further, until, at the very least, Emmerson is no longer in my arms. Derek doesn't say anything for a minute and allows Emmerson finishes nursing, just watching us, an odd expression on his face. I burp him and make sure he's clean, then swaddle him up. It feels like I can't move properly. For the first time since he took me captive, he had stayed away it had been 2 days that he didn't "visit". Those were the best two days I've had since I've been here. Yesterday I mixed dish soap with bleach and scrubbed everything that could be scrubbed in our tiny space, but there is still a deep red stain on the wooden floor. I started bleeding after he had left. Heavier than the lochia that is considered "normal" after childbirth. He's usually more careful, and I can get through it, but when he's angry it's almost unbearable. He was angry that night, and the night before. I scrubbed the floor and then moved the rug over to the center to cover it the stain. He'd be upset if he knew the floor was ruined.

"I've been thinking." He comes and sits down next to me. I force myself to stay still, and I hold onto Emmerson tighter than I previously was. Derek is close, to him, too close.

"Oh?" I ask, not sure where this is going. We don't _talk_ much, even before 'Room'.

"Let me take him." Derek requests, his voice oddly gentle.

"Take him where?" I ask wearily. "He's _fine_ here." I am starting to cry and panic at even the thought of being separated from him, I don't realize how tightly I am clinging to him and he begins to cry as well. I quickly reposition him.

"I could take him to the hospital, tell them I found him in the safe box."

"He doesn't belong in the "safe box." He belongs with _me_. He is _my_ son." I am being selfish. I know it. God how I know it. He deserves more than a life in this 12 ft x 12ft cell. He deserves everything the outside world has to offer him. Fresh air, friends and a normal childhood with a family who loves him. _I_ love him though. I can't bring myself to let him go though. I just can't. He is a part of me.

Derek goes to take him, and I _freak_ out. I quickly put Emmerson down in a plastic storage container next to the bed that I planned to use as a safe place for him to lay when I couldn't hold him. I shove Derek away from me while pushing the container with my foot at the same time. It slides Emmerson easily under the bed and out of Derek's reach.

"You _don'_ t touch him!" I scream. He is on top of me, trying to get to baby before I can even move. He quickly overpowers me and has his hand squeezing tightly on my throat. I can't breathe. There are black spots in front of my eyes. I grab the lamp from the small table next to the bed and hit him over the head with it. It is made from plastic, or something else cheap that won't break. He is momentarily stunned, but there is nowhere to move, and he grabs me by the wrist, twisting it tightly and putting me into a wristlock, a technique typically learned in combat training or self-defense courses. He probably picked it up from one of his military friends.

"You're so fucking _selfish_ Addison." My wrist snaps and I shriek in pain, kicking him as hard as I can, he releases me, with a thrust and I collapse down onto the floor. Cradling broken wrist in my uninjured hand. He must be sobering up. He has never broken a bone before.

"What have you done?!" I whimper. My wrist. It is swelling. My 3.5 million dollar a year wrist. Is broken and swelling. He is down next to me on the floor. I curl myself into a ball on the floor, trying to breathe. I thought that unmedicated childbirth was the worst pain that I had ever felt, but this… this was defiantly worse.

"Addison, I didn't mean it I'm sor-" He is on the floor next to me, he reaches out to take my wrist and I pull away.

"Let me look!" Derek demands.

"No." My wrist is already beginning to bruise. What if I am never able to operate again? "You _BROKE_ my wrist Derek."

"I didn't mean to. It was acci-"

"You're a liar." I hiss through my teeth. I am still clinging to the hope that one day he would set me free or I would be able to escape, maybe one day I'd have my life back and I can move on, put this behind me and pretend that it never happened.

"Oh, for fucks sake Addison." He grabs my wrist forcefully and I kick him again with as much strength as I can muster.

"BE STILL." He demands, and I don't know why but something about his tone and I stop fighting. He looks at my wrist and frowns. "It's a distal radial fracture. You'll be fine. I will bring you some painkillers and wrap it for you."

"That's not good enough Derek and you know it's not." We look at each other. Both knowing what the other was thinking, but neither coming out and saying it. I will be fine because I don't need to be able to operate again. I will be fine because he is never going to set me free.

"You can keep the baby." Derek says. "Keep him in the wardrobe when I come. I won't bother you about him again." He swears, as if this is some great compromise. My wrist. My ability to operate, to make a living, to save lives, for the tiny little baby hidden under the bed. I think for a minute. I want Emmerson, but there is something that I want equally as bad.

"The baby, and birth control." I say pointedly. He gets up and is back in a second pressing a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer to my wrist, he really does look like he's sorry.

"Ok." Derek said quietly. "I am going to go to the hospital and get some supplies. Try and rest. I will be back in an hour, keep this ice on your wrist." I just nod through the tears and within a moment he's gone.

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 ***June 2010***

 **Emmerson 18 months old**

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"Are you sure he is asleep." Derek asks. I nod my head. Emmerson had milkies and I had put him in the wardrobe after he fell asleep. We negotiated a toddler mattress and sheets to go in the wardrobe. "Why are you crying?" He orders, and I jump a little, my refluxes are slower than normal, my brain is foggy. "I'm sorry." I say lightly, I go to the sink and splash some of the cool water on my face. "It's nothing." What am I going to tell him? My heart pounds in my chest. Will he hurt me?

"You _never_ cry." His voice is gruff, again with the alcohol, I wish he would bring me some alcohol. "Are you sick?"

"I had a long day. I lost track of the time I'm sorry." I apologize a second time. "Let's just go to bed?" I suggest.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." He insists again, and I turn my head away, looking down at my feet, meek, submissive. Bad mistake. He puts his hand on my cheek, giving me no choice but to look up at him, like I would do anything else with his hands that close to my throat? I try to speak, but nothing comes out. He takes me by the upper arms and shakes me hard. Insisting I tell him the truth. I wish he wouldn't. He is making me cry harder. My head is spinning. I feel like I am going to be sick.

"I'm pregnant." I mumble miserably. Instantly he lets me go, I stumble, but he catches me, steadying me.

"What makes you think that?" He sits down on the bed and makes me sit beside him. His voice is gentle. He is talking to me… like I am a human…. Like I matter.

"You mustn't have taken your pills properly." He gives me a cross look, but he isn't angry and that makes even more afraid.

"I have… Religiously. I _was_ a world famous OBGYN at one point. And that aside do you really think I would want to bring another baby into this hellhole?" He raises his eyebrows but doesn't move to strike me. I realize I just said _'was'_ and not _'am.'_ I don't think he did, because nothing is said.

"Addison, you're going to be OK we are going to work this out." Derek says, and I look at him angrily. He is a little _too_ happy, _too_ gentle. It scares me, and what does he mean _'work this out'_? It's not like he'd take me down to the local woman's clinic.

"I can't handle another loss Derek. It's too much." The girls, the boy, the five first trimesters. I can't do it again.

"Well there's nothing that can be done now is there?" He asks, and then looks almost sympathetic. "I'm sure you won't lose it."

"You can't make that promise." I object. I am certain that I cannot carry a pregnancy to term because my blood, or maybe my genetics are just not compatible with his. "I have to get out of here Derek… I can't…" The thought of raising another child in this room is suffocating me. I can't breathe and begin to hyperventilate. He gets a paper bag from the cabinet in the kitchenette. He opens it up, handing it to me. I place it over my mouth, breathing deeply, trying to catch my breath, but it's not easy.

"I'll tell you what…" He says gently. "When the baby comes you'll live in the house. I'll move."

"You'll let us go?" My breathing is slowing down, and I ask him this carefully. Not daring to get my hopes up.

"Well no, but you'd have more space. I'll begin the repairs this week." _Great._ More soundproofing and locks. Like animals. We'll be locked in a slightly bigger cage. I look up at him, my eyes puffy. I press my lips together tightly.

"If this baby survives you'll take it and you'll raise it." I say carefully. "I asked for birth control for a reason." He looks like he would like nothing more than to strangle me right now. It never occurred to me that he is a medical professional and would have easily been able to swap out my birth control pills with identical placebo pills without me knowing. I guess when you're in captivity and depending so heavily on someone for something you live on the blind faith that they get it right.

We go to bed and it is like I feel like I am dead inside. The cheap bedframe creeks and I count each one. In and Out. 237 creeks. I appreciate that he is trying to be gentle, due to the new pregnancy, but for fucks sake. I hate nights. When he leaves I check on Emmerson, who is still sleeping, and then start my nightly tradition. I run a cold bath, adding a generous amount of bleach and scrub my skin until it is pink and raw.

.

Emmerson wakes when I go to take him from wardrobe. I never leave him in the wardrobe overnight. He's Signing "milk please". He doesn't speak much, but he can hold a full conversation in sign language. I am thankful for my friend Abigail who helped me become fluent during medical school. Derek doesn't know that I know an entirely different language, not that he would even care. I raise my shirt and Emmerson latches on to the right away. He looks at me questioningly. Maybe he can feel the sadness in my eyes, or maybe he can taste my sadness in my milk. Does breastmilk change flavors due to emotions? When he is done I put him down to play for a few minutes, my head is pounding. I don't feel like fighting with trying to get him back to sleep, not just yet.

' _baby!'_ He signs coming over to me, climbing up on the bed and putting his hand on my tummy.

' _there is no baby.'_ I respond, I always sign, and speak the words, at the same time, so he can learn and be fluent in both. This time my tone is harsher than I intend to. He looks at me for a moment, obviously confused, he shakes his head.

' _You're wrong! Baby… there!"_ He puts his hand lower on my tummy, precisely where an 8-week fetus would be. _'Emmerson feels her!'_

' _That's just my tummy grumbling because Mommy's hungry, silly goose!'_

' _You're a liar.'_ He signs stomping his feet in frustration.

" _EMMERSON!"_ He immediately begins to cry when I raise my voice at him. I never raise my voice.

" _Sister is a real. Sister is my friend!"_ He signs angerly, while yelling at me in baby language. I pull him closer to me.

"I'm sorry." I am not even sure how to explain this. He is wise beyond his years, but he is not even two yet. So, I just hold him, whispering I'm sorry repeatedly until he asks for milk, and falls asleep.

.

I feel a rush of fresh air and hear the door locking behind him. I stir out of my sleep, careful not to disturb Emmerson who was sleeping on the bed beside me, he was upset for over an hour, I finally got him back down. I get up and walk over to Derek.

"I'm sorry I didn't know you were coming back tonight." I say carefully.

"I picked you up a few things." He gestures towards the bags. I haven't seen so many groceries in a long time. I look at him wearily, wondering what I am going to have to do for them, but he begins taking them from the bags and putting them in the refrigerator and cabinets. Enough food to feed Emmerson and myself for weeks. He hands me a bottle, it's the expensive prenatal vitamins that I recommend to all my patients, and a second that contains more multi vitamins for Emmerson.

"Thank you!" I stammer repeatedly.

"No problem just let me know when you're getting low and I'll order some more."

"What's the ca-".

"Nothing." He cuts me off. "Just focus on the baby."

I know I shouldn't trust him, but quickly I begin to unpack the groceries. Fresh fruit, vegetables, meat, whole grains and milk, enough vitamins for both Emmerson and I to last for months.

"Thank you….." I murmur repeatedly. He pulls me close and gives me a hug, for a minute I allow myself to pretend that we are somewhere else. On a beach in Maui, or maybe the brownstone in New York. Anywhere but here. The smell of whisky brings me crashing back down to reality. I am not safe, and the reality sinks through that I will likely never be safe again.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

 **A/N:** Thank you to everyone who is reading "Room"! Today I realized that I have had this chapter on my computer since before I moved and just haven't posted it. I find children who learn to sign before they can talk fascinating. I thought perhaps that would be something different to add to a story. I really love reviews so if you're reading please let me know what you think. Let's have a conversation!


	4. Chapter 3

**Room:**

 **Chapter 3:**

 **Authors Note: This chapter was written as a flashback, to January 2011. Emmerson would have been around 25 months and Addison would have been between 35-38 weeks pregnant during that time.**

 **.**

 **FLASHBACK**

* * *

 **January 2011**

 **Addison 35 weeks**

* * *

I don't know how this happened, I miserably say the same thing every week, as I count down the days until this child's birth, but I made it to twelve weeks, and then sixteen weeks, twenty weeks, twenty-four weeks…. And now thirty-five. Count them. Thirty-five weeks. Once I made it into the second trimester, and we felt the flutters that confirmed it was alive in there, he stopped hitting me. He still makes me have sex, daily, but he is gentler now, I know I shouldn't think this way, but it reminded me of when we were first married. He is not intentionally being rough or hurting me. He is spending more time in Room now. He wants me to let him hold me, he talks to the baby and smiles when he presses his hand against my stomach and it pushes back with a foot, or a hand.

"We need to talk." He says. We are laying on the bed after he finished and rolled off me. I am thankful for this baby. When he is gentle, he gets turned on easier, and the whole process is over quicker. He wouldn't be being gentle if the baby wasn't there. It is selfish. God, I know it's selfish, but it is survival. He is holding me, my head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around me, resting on my stomach in the exact place where our baby is.

"Oh… about?"

"What are you going to do with the boy when you go into labor?"

"Emmerson? I guess I hadn't thought about it." I admit. Thinking about it now though my heart feels heavy. How scared would he be if this labor and delivery was anything like his was? "What do you suggest?" I ask finally. I know some families choose a home birth where the siblings are present and learn about the miracle of life, and that's fine, but in these circumstances, anything would be better than that. I can't shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong.

"I will bring you some medicine to help him sleep."

"He's too little…. Anything powerful enough to help him sleep through unmediated childbirth…. He only just turned _two_ Derek."

"I _promise_ it won't hurt him." He kisses me, gently and gets up, cleaning himself off and getting dressed. I wonder what he tells Meredith when he returns home smelling like me? Or did he say something about her taking the night shift? I can't remember. He pulls a old flip phone out of his pocket, and hands it to me. I look at it, shocked.

"This phone…. It's programmed so that it can only call my cell phone number. It doesn't have internet access or a way to call emergency services, and it does not have location services so don't try anything." He says, giving me a look like 'can I really trust you?'

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, turning the phone over and over in my hands, looking at it oddly as if it were an object from outer space.

"When you go into labor give him the medication and then call me. You don't have to do this alone Addison." He kisses me so gently that I almost forget we are here. "I love you." He says before getting up and walking out the door, a flurry of snow and cold air coming in before the door can slam shut.

I take a bath and then I get Emmerson out of the wardrobe, bringing him to our bed with me.

"You are the only thing that is good in my life." I whisper, kissing his auburn hair, he just snuggles close to me and continues sleeping, not even aware that he's been moved.

* * *

 **January 2011**

 **Addison 36 weeks**

* * *

"I'm getting married." He says, after the heavy door had been closed and locked. I look at him dumbfounded. I don't really care that he's in a relationship. I know he's been sleeping with Meredith since before he locked me away in 'Room'. I care about what this means for this baby I am carrying. He was supposed to take it, to raise it. Had he bothered to bring that up with her? I am guessing he didn't otherwise she'd have never said 'yes'.

"You _are_ married." What was he saying just last week? About loving me?

"You've been _'missing'_ for almost three years now. Four more years and I can have you legally declared dead. The case has gone cold, no one is looking for you. I think it's time I moved on for appearance sake, don't you?" I just stare at him, at a loss for words.

"What are you going to do about the baby? This baby?" I ask him.

"She knows I 'slipped' and slept with you when I was on that conference in LA. I'm sorry Addison I couldn't keep it from her." He says, but he doesn't sound very sorry at all. "I'll tell her you came back, dumped the child on me and left."

"You don't think that's going to raise suspicion?"

"No why would it? You left me. You ran off and didn't want to be found. It's not a crime." He pulls me close to him, kissing me, harder than I've become accustomed to. There is a strange excitement in him as he removes my clothing and pushes me down onto the bed, kissing me and running his hands over my body.

"Ouch…Derek." I whimper as he starts, he is not being gentle this time.

"Shut up." He massages my breasts, rubbing the leaking milk over my chest as the intensity upsurges.

"Derek you're hurting me." I move my hand to my mouth to keep from crying out, but he takes them, in his and pins them tightly against the bed. Pressing down, hard so I can't move.

"I said shut up!" He repeats raising his voice.

' _fifty- fifty-one – fifty-two'_ I count silently in my head with each thrust, trying to convince myself that this isn't abnormal, that he will be done soon and….but then he hits my cervix, causing a wave of intense contractions and with everything already being so sensitive from daily sex and an almost full-term pregnancy I just can't. My back arches, and I scream out in pain, forgetting myself for a minute and pushing him off me. "I said you're hurting me!" I exclaim, getting up, putting on a robe, and moving over to the toilet to be sick.

"You're not done until I say you're done." He looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Get back on the bed. Now." He says this like a father giving a small child a warning for being up after bedtime. His tone is scarily gentle.

"No!" I say through the tears, and he smacks me hard across the mouth. "Obviously I've been too kind to you over the last several months. You've forgotten your place." He says he yanks me up by my hair and I press my lips together hard, trying not to scream out again. He moves me back towards the bed, but I am fighting him.

"Please Derek you're going to hurt the bab-" He finally, he lets go. I am not exactly sure what happens next, maybe he pushes me down, maybe I just fell because I was fighting so hard, but I end up landing hard, on my side on the floor next to the bed. I curl into a ball, on the ground, whimpering in pain.

"Wouldn't this have been much easier if you had just done what I requested?" He asked, in that same creepily soothing tone. "Do what I say, and no one gets hurt. That's the deal we had…. Right?" He asks, and I nod my head miserably. "Ok then, are you ready to try again?" He asks, helping me up, and helping me get positioned back on the bed.

I try to dissociate, but I can't. I keep thinking back to every single time this pregnancy I wished this baby would just die. I didn't mean it. That's not what I wanted, but I know how falls can impact pregnancies. He forces me to kiss him and I flash back to the time one of my patients lost her baby after a slip in the shower. I remember sitting in the bathroom and crying for hours after I delivered the bad news to them. _'yesterday everything was fine and today, today her baby's dead.'_. I had cried when Callie, who was consulting on the case for the mothers broken bones, came to find me. _'Please don't let this baby be hurt.'_ I pray to the powers to be. _'Please.'_ I am not paying attention, to Derek, or what he is doing until I feel the weight of his body lift, and he realize he is smiling down at me.

"There that wasn't so bad was it?" He asks, not waiting for me to answer before he gets dressed and leaving for the night.

* * *

 **January 2011**

 **Addison 38 weeks**

* * *

It is two full glorious weeks before he _'visits'_ again. Meredith must really be putting out if he can go such a long stretch. Or maybe he's been out of town for business. I worry when he leaves like this. What if he doesn't come back? What if we die of starvation locked in this room? I have been rationing, but the groceries he brought when he came a couple of weeks ago are beginning to run low. The time without him is always a blessing though. It gives me time to rest, time to recover.

The door beeps and he come in, carrying two armloads of grocery bags. I wonder briefly how he managed to open the door. I go to him and relieve him of the heavy bags. I begin unpacking them.

"There are some things in there for Emmerson, and you as well. I've missed two _'Sunday Treats'_ "

"Thank you." I say automatically and then "Where were you? I've been trying to call you constantly for the last week." He shows me the ring on his finger and smiles a little.

"We were married in Hawaii." He says, without the slightest bit of concern on how I was doing how this baby was doing. "I couldn't take your calls, she would have known something wasn't right." He says, and for the first time looks like he really is sorry. I don't know how he managed to get married when he is still married, but that is beside the point. I try to push my judgement aside.

"I need to go to the hospital, I'm worried Derek."

"You're only thirty-eight weeks, what's there to worry about? The baby isn't due for another four weeks." If we didn't have the history that we have with losses, if I wasn't a doctor maybe I'd believe him, but my heart aches and I just can't.

"I haven't been able to get my counts… it's barley moving."

"How long has it been?"

"A week." I have been having intense pains since the accident, but the movement only really slowed a week ago.

"Oh Addison." He whispers, but my waters break then, it was almost as if they were waiting for him, so that I wouldn't be alone.

"I know it's dead Derek. I don't want to see it. I …. I don't want to have to do this." I don't know how I know, but I know, and I am crying now, he pulls me into his arms, holding me close as I cry into his shirt.

"I might have something that can help." He says… "But it's dangerous, Addison…How long have you been in labor for?"

"Since this morning. I thought it was just Braxton Hicks, but I gave Emmerson the medicine when I put him to bed about an hour ago just in case." Derek had brought me two bottles of adult sleeping liquid and two bottles of children's sleeping liquid several weeks ago. When I asked him why he brought so much he said he didn't know how much we would have to give him, or for how long. I pray this goes quickly. I pray that we only need the one dose.

"Let me check you and then I will go up to the house and get some supplies."

"What are you going to tell your hunny bun?" I ask, almost playfully, trying to distract myself from the pain, but quickly shut up before he has a change of heart and decides to leave and not come back.

"She's working tonight. Lay down." He says gently, turning to wash his hands in the sink and I do as he requests, remembering all too painfully the last time that I didn't do exactly what he said. All interns learned how to deliver babies on their L&D, but he had extra training with a particularly accommodating medical dummy. I loved the hospital, I spent most of my time working there, delivering babies, but I didn't particularly want to have my own baby there. I wanted something different, and so when I got pregnant the first time, I made Derek practice over and over with the medical dummy until he was able to successfully deliver the baby without killing it, or the robotic mother.

"You're at about an eight." He sighs, standing up and washing his hands again.

"I can't do this Derek…." I beg and he looks at me helplessly. "I can't see it. Please do something." I have never, ever in my entire life asked to be knocked unconscious, but I would rather risk dying than go through this, _again_.

"Lay down and try to relax. I will go and get some supplies."

"Please don't leave me." I beg, not even knowing why, but knowing I don't want to be alone.

"Addison I am going to go get my medical bag. I'll be back in fifteen minutes tops. Trust me." He says gently pushing me away, as he leaves, locking the door behind him.

I try and eat a cracker. I think about making a cup of tea, I check on Emmerson and he is still sleeping peacefully. I pace back and forth, unable to get comfortable enough to sit down, so really that's the only other option in a room this small. The pain is bad, but I can still walk and talk. I try and justify it as being 'all pregnancies are different; all births are different.' But I can't stop myself from wondering if it hurts less this time because there is not a baby actively fighting its way out…. It's just… nature taking its course with no living thing inside fighting its way to get out.

"I'm back are you OK?" Derek asks, coming in the door, spending a few seconds to make sure that the door properly locked before crossing the room to me.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"You wouldn't either under the circumstances."

He ignores me and starts unpacking his medical bag on the tiny kitchen table. He has a birthing kit, an IV, several vials of medication, a scalpel, clamps for the cord, a reviving blanket, a washcloth, a medical mask, and a large bottle labeled lab grade chloroform.

"I don't even want to know where you got that." I say, eyeing the bottle.

"I ordered it online. Crazy the things you can find online, and it was a steal at only $45." He says, adding 'don't worry it's 100% legal.'. I don't even want to know what he was originally planning on doing with it.

"Is it safe?" I ask him.

"If I keep the doses low and monitor you…. But coming off of it is hard Addison. You'll have chills, a splitting headache, and you'll likely end up vomiting uncontrollably. Are you sure you absolutely want to do this?" He asks again and I nod.

"I'm fine, just do what you have to do..." He helps me to lay down on the bed, and then after asking me, again if I'm sure, opens the bottle pours a generous amount on the white washcloth, puts it inside of the medical mask, attached it to my face to keep it in place, and then holds it down gently until my body becomes heavy and my brain finally surrenders to the blissful darkness.


	5. Chapter 4

**Room:**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Authors Note / Ramble:** I have no clue if the medical things in this chapter would work, but we're just going to go with it, based on the limited amount of information I was able to find. In this chapter we are continuing in January of 2011, and then will go back to current time 2013 in the next chapter. I just felt like it was best to break this (very long flashback) into two parts, it was getting kind of long. I think it would have been close to 5K words if I had just left it.

* * *

 **FLASHBACK (Continued)**

 **January 2011**

* * *

"Take these, they'll help with the pain, and nausea." Derek says quietly. He helps me sit up, as I am blinking back into consciousness, confused. I feel like I've been run over by a truck. I am shivering so hard my teeth are chattering, my head is pounding I wonder briefly if he hit me over the head with a baseball bat or something, until I remember him telling me this was a common side effect.

"What happened?" I ask, taking the pills, not even bothering to ask what they are I swallow them down. Derek looks away, and I know then that my suspicions were confirmed. The world is spinning though, and I am so cold. He wraps a second blanket around me and helps me to lay back down. I see a new sheet set, and a new comforter sitting on the table. Two fluffy new pillows on the chair beside it. I wonder why he's brought it here. He didn't bring me anything special after Emmerson was born.

"After you were sedated, I gave you a Pitocin injection to strengthen your contractions." He says, sort of text book, and I don't really care about any of that. He sits down on the bed next to me and holds my hand.

"And the baby?" I ask. My heart pounding hard.

"She was born sleeping, just like the other ones." He says, a hint of anger in his tone. He looks at me, the guilt getting me, causing me to cry. She wasn't _'just like the other ones'_ she was good, active and healthy until I fell, but I know pointing this out will only make him angrier, so I leave it for now. I am surprised when his voice softens. "You're going to be sore for a while, you're just so small, she was stuck, and you weren't doing well under the anesthesia. I had to push down on your stomach with each contraction to help your body deliver her. You bled a lot, but it stopped once the placenta was out. I got you this a few weeks ago, it will replace the ruined bedding." He says, gesturing towards the bedding on the table.

"Did you put her somewhere nice?"

"I did."

"Where?" I demand to know.

"In the back garden, under the rose bushes you loved so much."

"Thank you…." I whisper, he pulls me close to him and I rest my head on his chest. "for not making me be conscious for this." I say, but quickly get up, and he helps me move to the toilet as I am sick over and over again, until I am dry heaving can't stop crying.

'Shh…. It's OK. Addison this will pass… you're going to be OK." He kneels next to me, holding me steady and smoothing my hair back until everything is out and I can be moved. If this is what it's like with medication, I don't want to know what it's like without.

"We have to talk." I say... but he cuts me off.

"Shhh. Baby you're too weak, rest now and we can talk in the morning." He carries me over to the bed, and tucks me in, putting the extra blanket over, because the shivering still hasn't stopped. He lays next to me, curling up, my body automatically gravitating towards his warmth.

"In the morning." I echo, I want to argue, but I am tired, so tired, and instead I just end up letting him hold me while I fall asleep.

* * *

 ***THE NEXT MORNING***

* * *

I wake up to Emmerson's voice chattering away in that baby talk that he does. Derek is pouring cereal into a bowl and adding milk. He places the food in front of Emmerson who eyes it suspiciously, but eventually decides it is worth it, and eats away happily. We normally have such a lack of food that although Emmerson can eat solid food, he still gets most of his nutrition through breastmilk. I don't feel that sense of panic that I normally do when Derek is around Emmerson, just a vague uneasiness that I can't shake.

"Hey" …. I say, really, I am surprised he's even still here. What time is it?

"'He's been up for a few hours now, we played with building blocks and watched Peppa Pig. He has a clean diaper, and his dirty is in the pail. He tried to climb up and nurse, but I want to make sure the effects of the chloroform are completely out of your system first."

"Thanks… I'm sorry I didn't wake up sooner… I guess I was just…" I say… I try to get up, but I am unsteady, and he is across the room in a second, guiding me gently back down into a sitting position on the bed.

"You're still weak, you're going to have to give yourself time." He sits down next to me, and for a moment we are silent, just watching Emmerson enjoying his breakfast cereal.

"Where does Meredith think you are?" I don't know why I am thinking about her, and her feelings. Does it really matter if Derek breaks her heart? She's not the one stuck here.

"She was called in to work a double, so we're safe. I am going to stay with you and make sure you're OK, I have to leave around five, I promised her I'd bring her dinner, but I will be back tonight."

"We have to talk Derek, it's important." I say, but Emmerson runs over to me, signing 'milk' 'milk' 'milk'

"What's he doing?" Derek asks as I pick Emmerson up and hold him close. "He did that earlier too."

"He is asking to nurse." I explain, "He doesn't speak much yet, but he knows about 250 words in sign language." Derek gives me a strange look, like _'why would you teach him sign when he can hear perfectly'_ but I ignore him. "Do you think its safe to nurse him?" I ask, Emmerson is already trying to pull away at my dressing gown.

"I don't see why not. You seem fine."

I nod at him and let Emmerson latch. I take deep breaths, tying to ignore the pain from the cramps the nursing brings. I know it is just my uterus contracting, and shrinking back to its normal size, but it is irksome none the less.

"What did you want to talk about?" He asks, and I feel the heaviness in my arms that tells me that Emmerson was just using me as a pacifier and has fallen back asleep. I gently unlatch him, but I don't let him go. I just want to hold him.

"I need birth control, and I need you to wear condoms." I am nervous, but I must get it out, otherwise it will stay locked inside forever.

"Birth control fine, but Addison you know I don't-"

"I know you are never going to let me go. I know that I will be stuck in this room until I die, but Derek, I can't get pregnant again. If I get pregnant again…." I pause, trying to think of the thing that would hurt him the most. "I'll kill myself." I finally say.

"You're bluffing. You love that one (He looks down at Emmerson sleeping peacefully in my arms) Too much. I'm not raising your adulterous love child."

"Oh no…." I explain. "You wouldn't have to because I would kill him first, and then you would have two bodies to dispose of. There's not a chance in hell I'd leave him for you to abuse."

He moves to hit me, but then he stops, taking a deep breath like he is trying hard to get this right. "Addison you're not thinking clearly the medicine it must have…"

"Do you really want to try me?" I ask him, but he looks scared and I know what I've said is sinking in.

"OK, you win. I promise. We'll be safe, but Addison…. You really need to rest, you've been through a lot. I - I don't want to lose you."

I nod, feeling defeated. I got exactly what I asked for, but still it doesn't feel like enough. Will it ever just be enough?

When I wake up again, he is gone. I look at the clock. Five thirty. I panic for a moment, wondering where Emmerson is, it's too quiet, but than that initial haze of sleep lifts and I realize he is lying next to me, fast asleep. I stand up slowly, making my way towards the kitchenette, thinking of maybe getting something to eat, I am distracted by a note scrawled on a piece of notebook paper laying on the table.

* * *

Went to take Meredith dinner, will be back soon.

Emmerson ate lunch and then again around four-thirty.

He nursed twice, I made sure to watch him so he wouldn't

Suffocate or something, you were sleeping. Dirty diapers

In the pail. I will bring you the ones I bought for baby so

You have a larger stash. They're one size, same as these, should fit fine.

We played with puzzles and read the new Journal of American Pediatrics,

Where the Wild Things Are and Goodnight Moon..

I know you don't like him watching too much TV. Will be back around

Normal time. Please try to rest.

\- Derek

* * *

Emmerson wakes up then, and instead of getting something to eat I go to him, snuggling him close. He looks up at me confused and starts to cry.

"What's wrong Emmerson?" I ask him kissing him softly on the top of his head.

"Where's baby?" He signs, and then presses his head against my deflated tummy.

"There is no baby." I tell him the same thing that I had been telling him all along. We never spoke of the baby as if she were an actual thing. My heart aches. I think of what would have happened if we were never locked away. I would have chosen Mark. We would have kept Emmerson, and this baby would be Mark's not Derek's. It would have been healthy and pink and crying and…. Emmerson headbutts my sore chest to get my attention. How can it hurt _this bad_ when I nursed through the entire pregnancy and already have a full milk supply?

"You made baby gone." He signed "Bring baby back! Baby is my friend!" He signs, screaming at me in baby talk before finally laying against me, sobbing. He doesn't need to know. Him knowing what really happened could end up with him smarting off to Derek and getting hurt once he is able to talk. It is better for him to think that baby is a pretend thing, like the characters we see on TV and in books. I don't know what I can possibly say to make this better, and so I just hold him, sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking and soothing. Eventually he asks for milk and nurses himself to sleep. I look at the clock again. It's seven thirty now. I stand up as carefully as I can holding Emmerson and very carefully put him on his toddler bed in the Wardrobe. I suck ¼ of the regular dose of sleep medicine up into a syringe and put it in Emmerson's mouth. He automatically begins to suckle on the syringe and soon the medicine is gone. I am in so much pain, I don't want him waking up if Derek expects us to go to go back to our normal 'routine' tonight. I hide the sleep medicine carefully. I don't know what I am going to do with it, but I know I don't want Derek taking it back. Maybe I'll just get a few nights of dreamless sleep.

I run a bath and wash in the cold water before putting on clean clothes that don't reek of blood and afterbirth and a cloth maternity pad to catch the lochia. I brush my teeth and brush out my hair, trying to ignore the clumps in my hairbrush. I don't have time to boil water for a warm bath, like I do for Emmerson, but the cool water feels nice on my skin, soothing.

I put the new sheets and blankets on the bed. Fluffing the pillows in their new cases before putting the old ones that are soiled with blood stains, I would never be able to remove in a trash bag. I keep the black down blanket though. It only has a tiny bit of blood, that I could easily wash out. I normally use it to provide extra warmth for Emmerson in Wardrobe. I had just washed it a few days ago, folding it and putting it on the shelf. I'm not sure what it was doing on the bed. I put it in the laundry basket and then lay back down on the bed. Taking in the smell of the new soft bedding. Has it really been that long since I had something new that something as simple as bedding feels like a luxury? I cry into the Egyptian cotton blanket. I can't stop thinking about the baby. What would she have looked like? Did she have the same baby fine, soft red hair like Emmerson? Would she have been a calm baby like Emmerson is or would she have colic and allergies, and drive Derek and Meredith up the walls? Secretly I hoped for the latter. I can't stop the resentment from growing inside of me. One thing kept playing over and over in my mind. _'She was fine until I fell, I wouldn't have fallen if he hadn't been hurting me. He killed this child, not me.'_

The door beeps and I look up, Derek walks in, takes one look at me, and I can feel the whole mood in the room shift for the worst. I cringe inwardly. I really don't have the energy to fight tonight. He can tell I've been crying, and I can tell he's already in a bad mood.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, but I don't move.

"No." He says, shaking his head and sinking down on one of the folding table chairs.

"Would you like me to fix you something to eat?" I ask, but then I remember that he was gone to take Meredith some food. He would have probably eaten with her.

"I told you to rest." He snaps. "You're not resting."

"Ok…..Ok…. I'll rest." I say, backing up, raising my hands in surrender. I sit back down on the bed, legs folded to the side, bowing my head, studying the patterns on the new quilt, but I can't focus. He comes to the bed and sits down in front of me. Moving his fingers through my damp hair.

"You're beautiful." He whispers and I try to remain perfectly still. I learned long ago not to make any sudden movements when he is this close, sometimes I forget, but since falling I've been trying harder.

' _He killed her.'_ I remind myself silently.

"I want you…" He jeers…

' _You say that as if I have a choice.'_ I think. He pushes me back, into a laying position and leans over me to kiss me. He is being careful, not hurting me, but something just snaps as I flash back to him hurting me on the night that I fell, and I turn my head. His kiss lands on my cheek instead.

"Derek please don't."

"What's wrong with you lately?!" He asks angrily. He moves away from me as if I had burned him with a branding iron. Maybe he really did just want to be gentle with me.

"You killed our baby." I say, not an accusation, just stating facts. "Our healthy baby, _the one baby_ who made it to term and you _killed her_." I know it doesn't change things long term, because Derek was going to take her, but knowing she's dead when she could have lived is eating me up inside.

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing? Our daughter was stillborn, just like the others."

"She was hurt when you made me fall. She was _healthy_ until I fell. You've been here all-day playing daddy to _my_ son all while knowing you _killed_ our baby."

"It was an _accident_ Addison. You lost your balance and fell, no one is to blame." He is shaking his head and looking at me like he doesn't know who I am anymore. "I took care of him so you could rest. You've been through a traumatic event. You need to rest."

"I'm confused at where the _accident_ is. You _accidentally_ grabbed me by my hair and shoved me to the ground? Oh, wait, or was it that you accidentally raped me afterword's instead of taking me to the hospital because you're so fucking afraid of the hell that you've created here?!" I am too angry to even consider the consequences of my words.

"You don't mean that, baby you're grieving." He says soothingly and pulls me close to him, holding me in a tight embrace. I'm not going to lie, I completely freak out. It starts with me begging him to let me go, but instead he strokes my hair, pushing it back out of my face saying something like _"_ shhhh shhhhh shhhh, Addison it's alright."

"No one is to blame, It was an _accident_." He soothes. I try to move to escape his embrace, but it hurts, he is too strong, the more I move the tighter he holds on. I am crying hard, and breathing is difficult.

"Grieving takes time, we're going to get through this." He says, and with this I start hitting him repeatedly with my fists. Every inch of him that I can reach with him holding me the way he is. He doesn't move, or even try to stop me. He doesn't hit me back or raise his voice. I guess he knows what he did.

I'm not sure know how long it takes but a wave of exhaustion washes over me, and I stop fighting. I am so hurt, and confused, why is he doing this, why is he telling me all these nice things? The baby is gone and I'm not naive enough to think that things aren't going to go back to normal now.

"Addison I love you. I need you to be ok, _please_." He lets go of me and puts his hand on my face, gently forcing me to look at him. "I love you. It kills me to hurt you…. If you would just listen to me…." I am being perfectly still, numb aside from the occasional dry sob. He kisses me on the forehead, and I found that as odd, it reminds me of the way fathers kiss their daughters in those Lifetime movies. You know the ones where everyone has near perfect lives shattered by a sudden tragedy? My life could be a lifetime movie right now. I briefly wonder who would play my part?

"Are you OK now?" He asks, and I just stare at him blankly. I know what he is really saying is _'are you going to behave.'_ "Addison?" He asks again, pulling my attention to him, I was thinking of the baby again. She would have gone to private school. Derek hated public school. He wanted our kids to become doctors.

"I'm sorry. I'll be good." I say numbly. He nods approvingly and helps me lay down. He pulls the warm blankets over me and lays down beside me, I am struck at how different things were from this morning. I feel him curl up next to me, and take slow deep breaths, trying to calm my body, to trick it into relaxing. He puts his arm protectively over me, and within minutes the exhaustion gets the best of me, and I am fast asleep.

.

.

 **Authors Note** : Thank you thank you to everyone who has reviewed Room so far and letting me know your thoughts and opinions! It makes me so happy to read reviews. In the next chapter we will be back in current time (for the story) which is 2013. I am very excited to write the next chapter. It has a twist which I think is great. More Addison and Emmerson in the next chapter. I really hope Derek is creepy enough for everyone. I really wanted him to be kinder in this chapter, considering everything that's happened.


	6. Chapter 5

**Room:**

 **Chapter 5:**

 **Authors Note: 1)** Before anyone goes in about Emmerson still nursing, the child he is based off of was nursed until they escaped Room in both the book and the movie adaptation of the book. It's very common that toddlers 4 to 5 years old still are nursed by moms for bonding and health reason in some parts of the world, especially if other sources of nutrition are scarce. 2) I think it is cute she calls Emmerson, Emmy, for short and so I didn't change it. All the boys can only have X names and girls can only have Y names annoys me. According to baby center this is the meaning of his name and nickname:

 **Boy's Name Meaning:**

 **Emmerson**

Origin and Popularity

 **Emmy**

Brave and Powerful

* * *

"Do I really have to go to bed?" Emmerson asks, after we brush our teeth, and get into our sleep shirts. I hand him his lovey off of the main bed.

"Derek will be here soon." These words should be enough, he knows he is not supposed to be out of the wardrobe when Derek comes. The wardrobe is his safety.

"I'm hungry." He pouts. "and my tummy hurts."

"I know baby…" I soothe. "Derek will bring food soon. He wasn't able to get to the store before"

"When is soon?" He asks me. He had eaten a couple slices of canned pears earlier, and some goldfish crackers, but in the course of the day that isn't much at all. Mostly he just wants to nurse. In the real world it may seem taboo, but in a situation like this, locked in a room with very limited food, you do what you can to keep your child from dying of starvation. I am thankful for my ability to nurse him. The milk helps give him the nourishment he is not getting in his very limited diet. You can tell he is healthy when you compare us side by side. His skin is a rosy peach despite our lack of sunlight. Mine is a pale ivory. While he still has baby fat, and mussel on his bones I look like a walking talking Halloween decoration with my bones poking out in all the places they shouldn't, and the dark circles under my eyes. I try to exercise with him, we run from side to side of the room. We jump and do flips off of the bed, and I've taught daily him yoga, jumping jacks, and sit ups. He smiles at me, like I'm the best thing in this world. My heart aches. Longing for him to know the real world and just how great it is.

"Perhaps he will bring some food tonight." I say, hoping, praying for some sort of a miracle, but knowing that in this life there are not many miracles to go around.

"He never brings anything good. I hate him! I'm glad he hasn't come here lately."

"Hating Derek isn't going to change anything. So, for now I need you to _go to sleep_." I say, trying to be soothing, but my head is starting to hurt. I look at my watch, and like clockwork the door beeps. I give Emmerson a kiss and stand up, closing the wardrobe doors.

"Did you bring groceries?" I ask, but when I turn around I see there are no groceries in his arms.

"I've been at the hospital all week Addison, I haven't had the chance to -"

"We're _starving_ Derek."

"Let's just go to bed." He suggests, he sounds exhausted.

"No."

"Excuse me?" He asks raising an eyebrow.

"Not until you bring food and vitamins. I don't care if I eat, but Emmerson is a growing boy. He needs more nourishment."

"Look Addison, Meredith isn't on night shift anymore, and she's getting suspicious. She thinks I am cheating on her." He says, as if this will somehow solve _my_ problem.

"Well what would you call it?" I ask, and this earns me a hard smack in the mouth. I know I shouldn't be talking back, not when we so desperately need food, but I can't help it. I am not the person he has tried to mold me into by keeping me locked up here.

"Let's just go lay down.." He says offering me another chance.

"Derek No." I try to stay calm, sometimes when I am calmer I can get away with more, but it doesn't work this time. He just sighs like isn't his life the hardest thing ever and snatches me up. I don't mean to but I scream, he had grabbed me by the wrist he broke when Emmerson was a baby. I hit him hard, and his nose starts to bleed. "No. I _will not_ cooperate with you until you bring food. He needs food Derek!" I protest.

"You will do what I say." He says, cleaning his nose off on a rag until the bleeding stops. I think he is done, that I've gotten off lucky despite my temperament, but as soon as the bleeding stops he grabs me by the throat, pushing back towards the bed. "It's been a while since you've been this defiant." I can't stop what happens next. Out of the corner of my eye I see the wardrobe doors open, and Emmerson runs out, and straight to Derek hitting him over and over with his tiny fists screaming 'let her go' 'let my Momma go!'. Derek lets me go and turns to him.

"Emmerson get back in the wardrobe!" I beg, I try to go to him, but Derek pushes me away and I fall to the ground, hitting my head hard, I move my hand to my head, it's bleeding.

"You make my mommy cry!" I hear Emmerson yelling. I look up, to see Derek kneeling down to him.

"I don't want to make your mommy cry." He says, so gently, but he makes me panic. I don't know what his intentions are.

"Derek please don't hurt him, He's just a kid, he doesn't know what he is saying." I get up making my way toward him, but there just isn't enough room and Derek blocks me from getting to him. My head is spinning, and my vision is blurred. _How hard did I hit?_

"Back up Addison." He demands "I am giving you a chance to not fuck things up. You need to take it." He then turns back to Emmerson who is crying now after witnessing me being pushed to the ground and falling, probably regretting even coming out of the wardrobe to begin with. "I will not hurt you unless your mom gives me reason to. As long as she listens you're safe, just as you've always been." He says to him. "I am not the bad guy Emmerson."

"You will always be the bad guy! Always!" Emmerson screams, kicking Derek, hard. Derek looks stunned for a minute but manages to keep himself under control.

"You didn't mean that. You are a child. You haven't been on this earth long enough yet to know cause and effect, actions and consequences." He says, He picks Emmerson up easily, but Emmerson, not used to being touched or held by anyone but me, is screaming and thrashing around, clearly afraid. "You do not have anymore say than your Momma does." Derek says before dropping Emmerson down hard onto the toddler mattress in the wardrobe, closing the doors, and pulling a ziptie from his pocket zipping the door handles together so it would be impossible to open from the inside.

"Is this who you've raised?" He asks, turning on me. "I guess it was a blessing in disguise that we couldn't have children together." Emmerson is sobbing _'Momma! Momma!'_ while pounding on the doors of the wardrobe and my heart breaks. "Make him shut up." Derek demands, and I sit next the wardrobe, trying to calm the frantic child down.

"It's ok, you OK and I'm ok, just try and sleep for now baby. Everything is going to be alright." When he is afraid or upset it is best to keep things simple, just stating the facts. It takes around thirty minutes of this before wardrobe is quiet, and I am almost certain he's cried himself to sleep.

"You shouldn't have done that Derek; can you even imagine how traumatized he is going to be?" As if he isn't already, I think to myself, wondering how many years it is going to take to undo this damage?

"He hit me, kicked me _and_ he was running his mouth." Derek says, with such hatred that a chill runs down my spine.

"He's five! You were _hurting_ me, and he tried to _protect_ me." It's a damn shame that Emmerson is only five years old an knows never to put his hands on someone unless it's defense, yet a grown man can't seem to figure it out.

He pushes me down on the bed, and then _I_ kick him. "You need to bring food. Every week. Without fail from now on. I can't watch my only child die Derek. Do you really hate me that much?" I ask, but his hands are around my bruised throat, rubbing it painfully with his thumbs, lingering just so over my windpipe, and toying around with pressing down and then releasing, knowing that I know with the right amount of pressure it could crush, and I would be dead. I wince and my eyes water up from the pain.

"You don't get to make demands here Addison. I have the upper hand. Always." He says, letting my neck go. He looks over to the wardrobe, and very intentionally moves his finger across his own neck. "Do what I say, or you're not going to be the one who's hurting next time. Do you understand?" He asks, and I nod. I shouldn't have picked a fight, this is my fault. I know better, but Emmerson crying that he was hungry, I don't know. It just did something to me. He shouldn't be hungry. No child should be hungry. The thought of losing him to hunger, or to Derek's violence just…. I can't even think about it.

"I understand." I say going still and numb as I let him take what he came for when he is finished he pulls me close to him. "I only do this because I love you, you know?" I don't say anything, and he adds "I'll bring food tomorrow, how about you try not to be such a bitch when I come back." He gets up and pulls on his clothes before walking out and locking behind him, and when I am sure he is gone I burry my face in the pillow and let the ugly sobs come. When they finally stop I get the scissors and cut the zip tie, opening the door. I was expecting Emmerson to be asleep, but when I open the doors he flings himself into my arms. Sobbing.

"I'm sorry! Momma!" He cries over and over again. "I'm sorry I came out of wardrobe." It is a while before either of us can speak again, I just hold him, crying into his long auburn hair.

"That was really scary wasn't it?" I ask him finally, when I can speak again and he nods his head into my chest.

"Derek is a mean monster!" He exclaims through his tears. "He made you hurt and it's my fault." He is sobbing so hard now that I struggle to get him to calm down and listen.

"I'm sorry he scared you, and I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from that." I say and my eyes are spilling over with tears. If he had only stayed in the wardrobe this never would have happened, but I know I am the one to blame. I made Derek angry by not cooperating. "Oh, Emmy it's not your fault, he was already upset with me. You tried to protect me. That was very brave of you."

"I didn't want him to make you gone like he made baby gone."

"He didn't-" I start, but there's no point. I wasn't even aware he remembered the baby, especially after all the effort I went into to try and convince him it was not real. He stopped talking about her around a year or so after she died. "We have to get out of here." I finally say.

"You want to go into outer space like an astronaut?" He asks, his interest suddenly peaked, but he is weary, and I know it. All he has ever know is these four walls. When he was little, and I knew there was no way for us to escape I told him that this room was all there is, just him and me, and Derek who brings us food and other essentials, but now…. He needs to know the truth.

"No… out into the world, it's much closer than outer space. I know I told you something different when you were little, but now you're five Emmerson, you're so big. I know you can understand the truth now." I say, but he looks awful confused.  
"Do remember how Alice wasn't always in wonderland?" I ask, keeping my voice gentle, sing song, as if this was just another story or a game. We've read that story so many times that he could probably quote it word for word. We don't have many books in Room.

"Yeah. She fell down down down the rabbit hole, and then she was in wonderland."

"That's just like me, I wasn't always in Room."

"I don't believe you." He says, beginning to get upset. "Where were you?!"

"Things were different before. I lived in a big house with Derek. I worked as a doctor for Momma's and their babies."

"There is no such thing! That's just TV!" He shouts and I rub my hands over my eyes. Trying to massage out the pounding headache.

"Doctors are real, and so are police officers and firemen."

"Liar!" He says, shaking his head so hard I am surprised he's not dizzy.

"Emmerson, I'm not lying-One-night Derek-"

"Where was I?!"

"You were still in my tummy."

"How did I get into your tummy?"

"Emmerson that doesn't matter. What matters is….." I am getting frustrated but trying so hard not to let it show.

"I don't like this story! I want another story!"

"No." I say taking his face in my hands. "This is important, this is the story you get."

"When Derek found out you were in my tummy he got upset." How do you explain this to a five-year-old? Derek got mad because I had sex with his best friend and made you, so he locked me away in room to punish me obviously wasn't a good angle. "He put something in my drink to make me sleep, and then locked me up in his garden shed. When I woke up I was in Room. Room is the garden shed Emmerson. I've been locked up here for almost six years. The world is so big. I need you to be a part of that world, the real-world Emmerson."

"I don't believe in your stupid world!" He exclaims and he is crying so hard that I just hold him, rocking him back and forth on the small bed.

"Ok…. Ok… I whisper, but Emmerson I'm your Momma and sometimes I have to choose for the both of us. I have to choose what will keep us both safe."

"When Derek comes back I am going to hurt him like he hurts you."

"When you were still in my tummy I tried to hurt Derek and escape, but I messed up. I hit him hard, so hard." I say, I can still remember the sound the wooden 2x4 from the bookshelf made on his head. "I made the wrong choice though. He slammed the door closed before he fell and he threatened to hurt you if I didn't behave and so I stopped fighting, but Emmerson I made the wrong choice. I should have found a way to do both." I smooth his hair back and give him a gentle kiss. "I should have been able to protect you, _and_ find a way to escape, I'm your Momma."

"We could wait until he is asleep and kill him dead like on that cartoon we saw last night. The one that you said was 'not kid propiate' so we had to changed it." Emmerson says hopefully. He was talking about an episode of Southpark we saw when scanning through the limited channels looking for something to watch. I feel bad that he saw it, but he only saw a second.

"We could, but he is the only one with the code, you know the magic numbers that make door open and close?" I ask and he nods. When I first came to room I tried every combination of numbers I could think of. None of them the ones needed to crack the code.

"So what we're going to do?" He asks and I think on this for a few minutes.

"I don't know baby, but…. I'll find a way this time. For now, lets go back to sleep."

"Can I have milk now?" He asks and I nod, allowing him to drink until he falls asleep, I wonder what is going on in that little head of his. He must be so scared, so disordered with all of this new information swimming around in his head.

 _Please…. Please let me get this right._

I try to think of a way I can escape, or a way he can escape. _'We'll never be free until we are dead.'_ I think back to the tiny baby born sleeping. She escaped only through death. I pray it will not be the same for us as well. I think of how I negotiated for birth control by threatening to kill Emmerson and then kill myself if I got pregnant again. Obviously that would not be the answer. The sleeping medicine might something though, it is old, but it is there, still hidden under the sink.

I am filled with panic knowing that whatever we do, I will have to be the one to do it. If anything were to happen, if Emmerson were to get sick or hurt, I know Derek wouldn't save him. I am clinging to the hope that he at the very least would not want to lose me. He seems to take too much pleasure in making sure I am miserable to let me die.

* * *

"We're going to get out OK?" I tell Emmerson the next afternoon. "I just need you to be brave one more time."

"What are we're going to do?" He asks.

"I am going to take some medicine, this medicine." I say showing him the bottles of sleep syrup, "it is going to put me in a deep sleep."

"So you're going to be gone?!" Emmerson asks, instantly beginning to freak out.

"No…. No baby, not gone just asleep. We need to trick Derek into thinking I'm so sick that I have to go to the hospital."

"Maybe next year, when I'm six." He says, but I shake my head sadly. "Tonight Emmerson, It has to be tonight. You deserve your shot at an amazing life." I pull him into my arms "I am so afraid that he is going to hurt you. You need to be free from this place Derek's created. We'll be in the world, we'll find your Papa, you're going to love him."

"I need you momma." He cries and buries his head into my chest. "I _can't_ do this."

"We _have_ to. I have to choose for both of us, and we are going to get out of here."

"Do you promise?" He asks me and I nod, but I am trying not to cry. I'm so afraid. I don't want to scare him anymore than he already must be.

"When the door opens I want you to show the empty bottles and say, 'My momma drank these and now she won't wake up.' Derek will want to check me, and you have to let him." I take his wrist and show him how to check someone's pulse on their wrist, and again on his neck, so he doesn't freak out when Derek comes near me. "When I start to get sleepy I am going to lay on rug. I don't want to be on the bed if the medicine makes me sick."

I look at my watch…. Six thirty.

"Are you hungry?"

"Derek hasn't bringed any food." Emmerson points out, and then looks at me pouting. "What if this doesn't work?" Emmerson asks, he clinging to me.

"If it doesn't work I will wake up after a while and still be in room." I say simply. We lay down on the bed, and just snuggle, soaking up the time we have left together.

"What is my Papa like?" Emmerson asks and I start to tell him about Mark, but my watch beeps again. Seven fifteen.

"I will tell you when I see you outside, it will give you something to look forward to while I'm not here. OK Emmerson it's almost time, I need to start drinking the medicine now."

"And then you'll be sleeping?"

"Yes I'll be sleeping."

"Where do we go for sleeping?" Emmerson asks.

"We sleep here in Room."

"No, I mean for dreaming where do we go for dreaming?"

"We are always here baby, always in Room, but that will be very different soon." I give him a tight hug and begin taking swigs of the sickly-sweet liquid. Taking an entire bottle of the adult sleeping liquid. I feel sick, but try hard not to vomit, if I vomit I will have to take more, and while I want Derek to think I'm very ill I don't want to actually die. I pour the remaining three bottles down the drain. I rinse out the sink and then sit the four now empty bottles on the table.

"I know I only drank one, but if Derek asks tell him I drank all the bottles." I tell Emmerson, who is crying again. The medicine is kicking in quicker than I expected it to. The room is turning in fast circles, and my body is starting to feel heavy. My heart racing as panic, and realization at what I've done begins to set in. I realize I have no idea what is actually in this medication Derek brought. In is in a plain liquid medication bottle, but the only thing on the labels are "adult's sleeping liquid" and "children's sleeping liquid."

"You want _ME_ to lie now?!" Emmerson demands, as if this is the biggest ask ever. "You say lying is bad and that we shouldn't lie." His face is red with tears.

"Emmy." I say, trying to keep my voice calm. "Just this once it's OK. Remember we have to make Derek think I am really sick, or else he won't take me to the hospital. I won't be able to get help if he doesn't think I am very sick." I am already regretting doing this. I can't even with all of the things that could go wrong.

"What if he hurts me?" Emmerson asks, suddenly somber.

"He's not going to hurt you." I say, and I pray that I am right. Would me 'attempting suicide' be enough for him to make good on his threat to hurt Emmerson? I hope not. I have to struggle to keep myself from going to the toilet and vomiting up every ounce of the medication I have taken out of fear. I have to do this. I have to be courageous, for Emmerson.

"Ok…. I'll be brave." Emmerson whispers.

"I am going to lay down now," I tell him, but things are getting fuzzy and I end up falling to my hands and knees on the rug instead.

"Momma!" Emmerson screams panicked, running to me.

"I'm fine, baby shhhh. It's OK, everything is fine. It's just the medicine making my body sleepy." I move myself to a laying down position, on my side, just in case I vomit I don't want him to witness me asphyxiate as well.

"I am scared." He whimpers, laying down next to me, his forehead pressed against mine.

"I know baby, I'm scared too." I admit, my words are slurring as sleep threatens to take me. "I love you." I say, my vision is tunneling. It is almost like I am outside of my body looking down, I can see Emmerson screaming, feel him shaking me, but I can't hear him. I can't move. I see the bottom of the door opening and feel the sudden draft of cold, and a pair of extremely nice women's snow boots that clearly do not belong to Derek. I can't see their face, but when they bend down to talk with Emmerson I see dark blonde hair, I struggle to stay awake, but I can't keep my eyes open anymore as everything goes dark.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Thank you to everyone who has made it this far in "Room!". Please review and let me know what you're thinking! Who do you think the blonde is, and how do you think she figured out the code to get in? It might be very obvious to some and less obvious to others. I am excited for the next chapter, in which more is revealed. This chapter was already getting lengthy, so needed to end. 3


	7. Chapter 6

**Room**

 **Chapter 6:**

 **Authors Note:**

Thank you for the reviews of the last chapter! I just really wanted for it to not be Derek who found her, and really this seems to work, and it is different from the book, which also good. So, until Addison wakes up POV has shifted, but everything is marked off.

* * *

 **MEREDITH's POV:**

* * *

"Oh My God." I whisper horrified opening the door to room to find a frantic child kneeling down on the floor shaking someone who - no it couldn't be - "Addison?" I let the name slip off of my tongue, confused, the name tastes bad. How could this be? She put in a letter of resignation and left for LA almost 6 years ago, hadn't she?

"Please help!" The little boy sobs, and I go to him, kneeling down. He has the exact same eyes as Addison, and that same fiery red hair. He's small, can't be more than four or five. He looks about the same age as my son Dakota.

"My name's Meredith." I tell him, trying to keep my voice calm, and low, like I do with my own child when he's frightened. "What's your name?"

"Emmerson." He whispers and I force a smile, "Emmerson I am going to call someone to help your Momma. Do you know what happened?" He nods, trembling.

"She drinked all the medicine from these bottles, and she won't wake up." I stuck in a deep breath, as the realization of what would have happened if I hadn't been watching Derek for weeks on the security camera footage, if he hadn't been called in to emergency surgery tonight sinks in. A shiver runs through my body. I check Addison's pulse. She's breathing, and her pulse is stable. I call 9-1-1 and ask them to send a police dispatch, and an ambulance, giving them a rundown of this very odd situation, I am in. I was expecting to find a secret porn stash or maybe a blow-up doll…. Not this. Never this.

"Why did your Momma drink from the bottles Emmerson?" I ask, we only live five minutes from the hospital. I can already hear the ambulances coming. I had instructed them to come to the back yard and gave them the code for the gate. I didn't want to leave her alone, who knows what was in those bottles.

"He hurt her." His voice is so quiet.

"Who?"

"Derek." He says, before laying down next to Addison, pressing himself as close to her as he could possibly get in such a tiny space, holding her hand, and just sobbing. My blood runs cold when I hear the name _'Derek'_. Refusing to believe that _MY_ Derek was even capable of doing _this_? How could he be? He treats me so well and is a wonderful father to our four-and-a-half-year-old son Dakota. I shake my head, he had to be to blame. What other Derek's have access to our back yard?

"Ma'am can you tell us what happened and how you know these people?" The ambulance workers asked as they worked on Addison, starting a line, giving her oxygen, and a warming blanket, preparing to transport.

"Her name is Addison Montgomery, she's around 45 years old. I think." I say, and I am crying genuine tears as I see the deep purple bruises around her neck. "This is her son Emmerson. Addison is My husband Derek's ex-wife, I just met her son when I found them tonight." They nod and finish writing down their notes on their pad of paper, and while one wheels her to the ambulance the second stays back to assess Emmerson, who completely lost it when Addison was taken.

"Momma!" He wailed. "Bring - - her - - back! Bring - - her - - back!" I catch him in my arms, holding him tightly and safely.

"Emmerson we're going to take your Momma to the hospital to help her get better." He explains carefully. "We need to make sure you're not hurt too, and as soon as we do that you get to ride in a police car, to the hospital isn't that exciting?"

"You'll get to see your Momma really soon Emmerson." I whisper, "Your Momma's going to be fine." I take off my winter coat and wrap it around Emmerson, not wanting to put him down. The snow on the ground is so cold, and he doesn't have any pants, or shoes on. I ask him about it, but he just looks into the shed and cries "I want Momma!"

The police officers arrive then, coming to the back yard, questioning me again, and then after Emmerson is cleared medically questioning him.

"Where are you going to take him?" I ask. "My son is sleeping inside. He is around the same age. Could I at least get Emmerson some clothes, so he does not have to be out in this cold?"

"We will take him to the hospital and have him fully examined. We can take his clothing as evidence if you have something warmer he can wear." I nod, and try to hand Emmerson to the police officer, but he is holding on so tight. He must be so scared.

"Can I take him inside?"

"I'll come with you." The police officer says, and we walk through the snow-covered yard into the vast warmth of my home. I try not to remind myself that this was home. Derek must have kicked her out of her own home and locked her in that tiny Shed.

I go to Dakota's room, and get one of his extra backpacks. Emmerson is thinner than he is, but would probably fit fine, considering the pants have adjustable waists. I get a new pack of underwear and socks from the dresser, and then pick a few pairs of pants, shirts, and a couple pairs of pajamas. Dakota has way too many clothes for his own good. I get a third outfit out, and give it to Emmerson who quickly undresses, and puts on the warm clothes without a hassle, handing his old clothing to the police officer, who put it in a evidence bag.

I help him put a pair of shoes on, and then a hat, and coat before we go back outside.

"These nice police officer is going to take you to the hospital, you'll get to see your Momma."

"Can't you come as well?" He asks, looking up at me with those huge eyes.

"Maybe I can meet you there?" I ask the police officer. "I would need to get Dakota up and dressed, but we could be there in around 30 minutes."

"OK I will take him on ahead, and get him signed in." She says, giving Emmerson a little smile, and he reluctantly takes her hand, walking out of the house and to the police car.

* * *

 **ADDISON's POV**

* * *

"Where am I?" I ask, waking up slowly. My entire body hurts, and there is what I can only guess to be a feeding tube and oxygen going into my nose. It stings. Slowly the events from the night before coming into focus, playing in front of my eyes like a movie.

"You're at Seattle Grace, Addison." I look up to see Mark, his eyes filled with pain. "You're safe, and so is your little boy. We've got you now."

"Where is he?" I say, looking around, but not seeing Emmerson. "I need to be with him. He's probably so frightened!" I try to get up, but Mark gently puts his hand on my shoulder, pushing me back down onto the bed.

"You need to rest for a little while longer." He explains. "The medication you took isn't completely out of your system yet."

"He needs me… he's never been outside of the Room. He's never been without me!"

"Now that you're stable they are preparing to transfer him up here, Arizona has gotten clearance so he will be able to stay with you until you're discharged."

"Thank you." I whisper. My heart beginning to slow, I wasn't even aware that it was going that fast until it slowed down, realizing that he is safe. Not sure what else to say. Mark looks away, like there is something that he wants to say but can't.

"I didn't have the abortion." I finally admit, guessing that it is the paternity of Emmerson that he is questioning. "I couldn't do it, I was going to tell you that night, but when Derek found out I didn't have the abortion he got angry and…" I can't finish the sentence. Mark doesn't need to know every little detail of what went on in Room right now.

"What are you saying? He's mine?" He asks, a hint of joy sparking in his eyes, as he looks up at me. How has it only been almost six years since we had that horrible conversation? When I came home and told Derek I couldn't have the abortion, when he punched me so hard I thought he had ruptured my spleen. When he forced me to drink the alcohol that he laced with rohypnol.

"He is."

"Does he know? Can I meet him?"

"He knows your name, and that you're a plastic surgeon." I say, and Mark's eyes drop again, like he was upset that I didn't tell Emmerson all about him, and how amazing he is. "I'm sorry Mark, I couldn't tell him a lot. I was afraid Derek would hurt Emmerson if he started talking about his dad."

"You didn't think you were going to make it out alive." Mark finishes my sentence.

"I didn't." I say, shaking my head and pressing my lips together hard. "And protecting him was my top priority."

"You were 500 feet away this entire time." He says, how many times had he had dinner or gone hiking with Derek in the last six years. How many times had he baby-sat Dakota so Meredith and Derek could have a date night? "I didn't know Addison, I am so sorry."

"No one knew…" I murmur.

* * *

 **Addison's POV**

 **A while later:**

* * *

"Momma!" Emmerson shouts running to me and jumping on the bed. "You're OK!"

"I am….. you saved me." I say, hugging him close, words unable to describe how thankful I am that he is alive. That we are both here, safe in the hospital and not in Room.

"The lady with the yellow hair saved us." He said and gave me a toothy smile. "She called the police and she took us out of room ZOOOM in an ambulance and police cars. She has a little boy called Dakota. He is my friend. We play together _every day_ in the big room with all the toys!"

"That's great honey." I say, momentarily just relieved that he is making friends, and not too traumatized by this, but then curiosity getting the better of me, I turn to Mark.

"Who is this woman?" I ask, suddenly worried about Emmerson being around random people, especially random kids. He hasn't had his vaccinations or any type of experience with other children. He could get sick so easily, not having the same exposure to the common colds and germs that most children his age have already had in day care or school. Mark looked away, as if he didn't want to say anything, he takes a deep breath, a look of confliction on his face before sitting down on the bed next to Emmerson and I.

"Addison I know you're not going to want to hear this, but it's Meredith. Meredith found you." He squeezes my hand tightly, in support. I don't know what to say.

"Merry-dish…. I keep forgetting her name." Emmerson perks up, and I look at him oddly. "What?" He asks. "She's so nice, and we ated ice cream REAL ice cream with cookie sprinkles, like we saw on TV!" He had a face mask when he ran into the hospital room, but quickly pulled it off when he saw me. I know it is to protect him from all the airborne germs of the hospital, but I wonder how long it will take for our lives to become normal. Will we ever be able to forget Room?

"She and Derek were living in _the_ house." I know that he means _my_ house. When we first moved to Seattle Derek and I bought that land and together we drew out floorplans for a beautiful home. "She didn't know Addison, she feels terrible."

"Why should she get to have a feeling on this? Nothing happened to _HER_." I exclaim, and Emmerson jumps, moving his hands over his ears, and starting to cry I instantly feel sorry for rising my voice.

"Shhh… It's OK, baby Momma's sorry for shouting." I soothe, giving Mark a dirty look.

"Well no, not in the same way." He mummers. "Look Addison, a lot has happened, you're going to need time to adjust, she's not the one to blame here, Derek is, he did you both wrong."

"Why are you defending her?"

"I'm not."

"Clearly you are." I can't stop the mad from showing through, but I don't want Emmerson to think that I am mad at him. He has done nothing wrong. "Mark, I can't deal with this right now, I need to _rest_ , why don't you take Emmerson down to the gift shop for me and let him pick out a few toys or something and come back later?"

"Addison we need to talk."

"I'm fine Mark, please just go." He sighs and then smiles at Emmerson. "Would you like to go get some toys and let your Momma rest then?" He asks and Emmerson puts his lip out at me.

"I don't want to go." He says, "We're finally together again."

"I'm so tired baby, please?" I ask him, and it's not a complete lie. They still have me on medication to help me recover, and it has taken a lot out of me.

"We could take a nap together, like in Room." He suggests, looking up at me hopefully.

"Emmy…." I say, but he sees the look on my face, and his lip begins to tremble as tears spill over.

"I HATE THIS NEW WORLD!" He screams. "I HATE YOU!"

"Emmerson, don't speak to your mother that way, she's been through a lot!" Mark steps in, because I am just looking at Emmerson in disbelief, momentarily horrified.

"Ever since we got into this new world she doesn't want spend time with me anymore! Everything is changed. I want to go back to Room!" He screams, and tries to leave the room, but the door is too heavy. Mark picks him up, holding him tightly as he sobs and tries to get away.

"You're upset with your Momma right now?" Mark asks.

"Yeah." Emmerson hiccups when he is calmer.

"It's frustrating you can't spend as much time with her as you used to."

"I know."

"The good news is once your Momma is well things will be more 'normal' again."

"Can we bring Momma a plant, or maybe a flower?" He asks, deciding that even though he was mad with me, that the room at least needed one more living thing.

"Of course, we can." Mark says, giving me a thumbs up when Emmerson isn't looking. I nod, and he takes Emmerson's hand in his own and after replacing his mask they leave the room.

* * *

I have barely gotten thirty minutes of sleep when I hear another knock at the door, and a thin blonde comes in and sits down in the chair beside my bed. I cringe inwardly, I just want to sleep.

"Get out."

"No." She objects.

"You better not let Derek catch you here, you'll probably be next." I say offhandedly, sinking back down into the not so fluffy hospital pillows.

"He loves me, he loves our son." She states, but her voice wavers like she isn't sure.

"He loved me too, that didn't stop him from locking me up the minute things got hard and he found something better." I say, giving her a look of revulsion.

"Obviously not that much better, he was still sleeping with you." Her face is pale, and she looks like she's been crying. I should care, she is struggling too, but I don't.

"You shouldn't justify rape like that. I wasn't _sleeping with_ him. I was being raped almost nightly, and when I fought back he _beat me_ , in front of my child. How dare you assume to know what went on?"

"That's not what I meant Addison, _I'm sorry_."

"You're sorry?! Living in my house, sleeping in my bed and all you've got to say is you're sorry?"

"I didn't know until that night; Addison I swear."

"That is not an excuse." I say, but I really don't know what I could have expected her to do differently. If she really didn't know she was an innocent victim of Derek just like Emmerson and I. I just wish she would leave, what does she want from me?

"I came to tell you that…." Her voice breaks and she begin crying "He's in jail without bond, pending trial."

"He deserves the firing squad." I say, and she starts to cry harder.

"What he did to you was unspeakably cruel, you didn't deserve that and neither did your son, but that doesn't take away from the fact that he has been nothing but an amazing husband and father to us." She says angrily through her tears.

"That doesn't _help me_ Meredith." I say, "If you're here to defend him you can leave."

"If you press charges he could go to jail for life. Addison, you don't know what you are doing. You could be taking him away from his son and ….." She puts her hand on her tummy, I don't know if she is aware she is doing this, but I am great at reading nonverbal cues, I shake my head at her sad that he put her in that position of carrying his child twice, but grateful that at least her children will survive and she will not be forced to endure the pain of multiple losses that I have, my heart stings for her remembering how afraid I was, being pregnant and alone in Room. "My children need him. I need him." She says, pleadingly.

"What happens when the next best thing comes along, and he starts hurting you? What happens when he starts hurting those babies?"

"He would never do that; Addison I swear he loves us."

"Well I guess it is a good thing this isn't really about _you_ then isn't it, because obviously you're too stupid to see that _abusers_ don't change. Things might be OK for weeks, maybe moths, or even years, but they never change who they truly are. What am I supposed to do when he comes after me and my child, furious with us for escaping? Who's going to protect me? Who would have protected you if he didn't have me to use as his punching bag?"

"Please, Addison don't sign the papers. He would never hurt us."

"I used to say that too, and you've seen how accurate my judgement was."

"I can't _live_ without him, he is my _everything_."

"Well I guess you're going to have to learn." She hasn't stopped crying yet, and for a moment I wonder how she is getting enough oxygen and how she hasn't passed out yet.

"You're free from his captivity now. Why can't that be enough?"

"I need to be safe. My son needs to be safe. That can't happen if Derek is not convicted."

"You're signing his death certificate Addison. Do you know what they do to rapists in prison? Not to mention if they find out he held a child captive as well."

"Oh, I am fully aware of what they do, and he will deserve every minute of it."

"Your heartless. I should have left you in that Room to die."

"Maybe you should have….." I say shrugging, like this comment doesn't bother me in the slightest. "If you had it wouldn't have been so long before he put you in."

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing Room so far! I toyed around with the idea of Meredith and Addison being friends and bonding and cute, and whatever, but that just really didn't seem to fit. I think it will take a while for Addison and Emmerson to adjust to being in the real world, more to come soon! I think Addison is tired, and overwhelmed and just having a hard time at the moment. I think Meredith is in denial and freaking out.


	8. Chapter 7

**Room:**

 **Authors Note** : Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. It makes my world go around to see that people are reading and enjoying (if that's even the right word?) This twisted story. I am really glad they are out of Room. I had one thing planned for this next chapter, but changed my mind mid-way through the chapter, and so I re-wrote it.

* * *

 **Chapter 7:**

 **Addison's POV:**

* * *

"Please clear me…. I just want to leave." I say. "I want to take Emmerson and leave. He's fine there is no reason to traumatize him by having him stay here." I say, looking down at him sleeping in my arms sadly, and gently smoothing his hair down, pushing it out of his eyes.

"You have a grade 2 concussion." Amelia says, completing the neurological exam, writing down her findings. "Addison, you've been through an unimaginable trauma, you need to stay a few more days so you can recover. Children are resilient, Emmerson really is doing fine." Amelia says. She had taken him to the children's indoor playground on the children's ward while the police officers spoke with me.

"I can't recover here. Not like this." The officers had been by to give me an update on my case, and they needed more information on the newborn baby they removed from a shallow grave under the rose bushes. I couldn't stop myself from flashing back to that night with every question. _'Was the baby born breathing?'_ they asked, and I couldn't answer them. _'He delivered her. He told me she was already dead.'_ I say, and then. _'I didn't see her. The pain and blood loss caused me to lose consciousness.'_ I couldn't bring myself to tell them the full story, how I was so emotionally damaged that I couldn't bring myself to delivering her myself. I couldn't tell them how I begged Derek to sedate me and take her from my body. _'Do you know how she died?'_ The officer's bedside manner really sucks, and I tell her so. _'He killed her. He made me fall. She was fine before I fell.'_ They have me sign paperwork, giving them permission to do an autopsy on the baby, and asked what I wanted done with her remains. I will have her cremated and spread her ashes somewhere lovely when this is all over. She deserves to be free.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Amelia asks when she returns and Emmerson crawled up on me exhausted after the playground, and quickly fell asleep, so there is no real risk of him overhearing.

"What about Derek?" I ask bitterly.

"I completely cut him off when I found out what he did to you. Mark and I…. We've been searching for you for years. Sam and Naomi as well."

"He told me nobody was looking, that the case had gone cold."

"Not being able to find you, and not looking is two very different things Addison." Amelia says, and honestly, she just looks grateful that I'm 'OK'.

"Derek and I had a baby…. a little girl, she would have been three this year." I say, watching Amelia

carefully.

"Had?" She asks cautiously.

"He made me fall, I got badly injured and she was born sleeping at thirty-eight weeks." She gives me an _'I'm so sorry'_ expression but doesn't say anything, waiting for me to continue. "He buried her in the back garden and the police just exhumed her body for evidence."

"I'm so sorry Addison, that's terrible."

"I just want to go home." I say again, although I'm not really sure where 'home' is now. Mark wants me to go stay with him, he wants Emmerson to be a daily part of his life, but I don't know. I am not ready for any kind of relationship, not that Mark would force a relationship. I just want to feel safe again. I don't know where that feeling is, or what it looks like.

* * *

 **A FEW WEEKS LATER**

* * *

"The autopsy results are back, Addison you need to sit down." Amelia says, I am standing in Mark's kitchen, watching Emmerson play in the guest bedroom on the security system Mark had installed. He wanted us to feel safe. He wants me to help him fix the room up for Emmerson, but not until I'm feeling better. She had been called by the medical examiner to testify against Derek, but that is all she had told me. She wanted to see the full autopsy results first, which they just gave her access to today. They sent her the results before I even got them. "You need to hear this before you hear it in court."

"What is it?!" I ask, but my voice snaps, annoyed. I am not adjusting to being back in the real world very well. After years in room everything is too big, too bright, too overwhelming.

"The baby wasn't stillborn."

"What are you talking about? Of course, she was."

"No Addison, look." She says, showing me the autopsy report. "It's controversial maybe, but they did a hydrostatic test, and both of her lungs passed." She said pointing to the left and right lungs where the coroner had put a tiny check and noted 'right lung and left lung passed hydrostatic test testing.'

"What does that mean?"

Amelia looks at the papers again. "She was born breathing. The lungs won't float if they haven't taken in air." She explains, and I know this, but common sense and problem solving isn't my strong suits at the moment. My head still hurts, and since I have been out of the hospital, I have been so tired. I just want to sleep. She flips through the papers, and I watch the color drain from her face as she turns to the page detailing the 'abnormal findings.'.

"What's wrong." I demand.

"Um…." She takes a deep breath and swallows hard. It's un-nerving for me to see her so shaken. "How exactly did you say you fell?"

"I don't know." I say, trying to remember specific details, but my head is pulsing, and I feel like I am going to be sick as I see little sparkly floaties. "He pushed me, and I fell down." I say, shrugging "Why?"

"Where was the baby's head?" She has moved the papers now so I can't see them, but it doesn't matter because I am obviously not following where she is going with this.

"I don't know _Amelia_ , that was three years ago." I say, my voice is whiney, speaking her name, and I hate it. She puts the report down on the counter, and grabs me by my upper arms, forcing me to look at her. I flinch, automatic response, even though I know she won't hit me. She lets me go anyway, and backs up, but not enough.

"Focus. Addison, just try." I shake my head, but then I remember how uncomfortable I was that day, how the baby kept putting her head under my ribs. How they felt like they were going to break, and I couldn't properly breathe. How I kept gently pushing her head down, but she kept moving it right back.

"Transverse, she was still transverse." I slowly begin to see where she is going with this and I shake my head, no, tears falling hard, but she keeps pushing me.

"How did you land when you fell?" She asks, clearly trying the scene together in her head.

"I landed on my side." Barley a whisper.

"Did you fall on anything or hit anything besides the floor?"

"No. What is this about? Amelia?"

"The autopsy is unremarkable from any other SIDS case except for the fact that the baby had bilateral, depressed skull fractures, a clavicle fracture, and a Le Forte II fracture."

"The clavicle fracture could have been due to her being stuck during delivery; Derek had to help force her out. Do you think maybe she had Osteogenesis Imperfecta, and the fall just…?" My voice breaks "broke her?"

"The autopsy report says she showed no signs of OI or any other genetic conditions."

"I broke her bones when I fell…." I whisper, listening, but not hearing Amelia's words, panged with guilt, that my suspicion was confirmed, I had always blamed Derek for making me fall but…. it's my fault too. I'm the one who fell.

"No…. Addison…." She shakes her head, trying to make me get the point, but my brain is sluggish, and I am so so tired. "Someone hurt her." She finally says. "This level of injuries, they would have been immediately fatal, and she was born breathing. You didn't do this."

"Derek wouldn't have hurt her. He wanted her Amelia." I protest.

"He locked you in a 12x12 garden shed and beat you into compliance, what makes you think someone like that is even capable of raising a child?" She asked, and I can tell she's trying extra hard to show patience. When I was found I had so many bruises they were concerned that I might have some kind of a bleeding disorder, turns out the only disorder I have is my smart mouth and inability to adapt and play by the 'rules'.

"He only hit me because he had to… because I didn't listen." I say, moving my hand over my throat where the deep bruises were finally beginning to heal.

"You're not a child deserving punishment Addison."

"He brought us food, clothing and medicine. I've been thinking a lot about what Meredith had to say when she visited me in the hospital."

"What do you mean what Meredith had to say? She's the last person you should be listening to! ?!" When I was found she had to choose a side, she picked me.

"It's not right to take him away from his family, Amelia. Derek would never intentionally hurt a child, and what he did to me… I deserved that and so much more."

"No one deserves _that_ Addison; you have court in less than a month. What exactly are you going to tell the judge?"

"That my husband loves me, and I want the charges dropped."

"He killed your _child_ Addison. He took a shovel or some other blunt object and hit your rainbow baby multiple times in the head. He broke her bones. He buried her in a shallow hole in the garden like a dog for fucks sake. How could you value him over the child you've been trying for at least thirteen _years_ to conceive?" She gives me a disappointed look. I don't know what Derek's agenda with room was, I guess to punish me for being able to have Mark's child and not his. I guess Amelia is being kind when she says 'thirteen' instead of 'eighteen.' She had taken away the time I was in Room. Clearly understanding I never _endeavored_ for pregnancy there.

"He did not _kill_ her _Amelia_. She was stillborn, just like the others."

"If that's what you believe I really beg to question the validity of your claim that the others were lost due to miscarriages and not by the hands of this man you're trying to protect. There is direct evidence that she was not stillborn and the fact that you are defending him is disgusting." She says, and I am taken aback when she brings up the other babies, not once, but twice. Things were different then. Derek loved me he wouldn't have ever dreamed of hurting me. That all changed when he caught Mark and I together. He changed.

"Amelia…." I say, but really I don't know what to say. She is re-writing history. She knows I was never abused when I lived with Derek, and for her to say such a thing about the babies… that's just a low blow. I just wish she'd leave me alone. I get up, like maybe I am going to go lay down, but she grabs my hand, pulling me back towards her.

"Addison you can't lie for him."

"I'm not lying."

"What do you think is going to happen when he gets out? When he finds you?" She asks. I just stare at her. When I was in the hospital I was so scared, and so angry with everyone. I wanted to immediately press charges and let Derek rot in jail for the rest of his life, but now I'm just not sure what the _'right'_ thing to do is. I don't want to face a trial. I don't want a room full of people knowing what he did to me in Room. I just _can't_.

"I'll move, I'll leave Seattle and he'll never see me again." I say, bargaining with something I know that I can't hold true. Derek has connections. I would never be able to truly escape. Even I am not naïve enough to believe that.

"He _hurt_ you Addison. He _hurt_ your children." Her eyes are pleading.

"He _loves_ me."

"He's _sleeping_ with Meredith; he's been with her since the day after you went missing. Living in _your_ house. They _your_ baby's nursery into their child's bedroom."

"He made a mistake…. People make mistakes Amelia." I don't know why, at the mention of the nursery the twins we lost at 23 weeks come to focus.

* * *

 **FLASHBACK**

(Because Addison thinking of the twins she lost went a little longer than expected, so flashback brackets to try and prevent confusion.)

* * *

Derek was on a business trip to New York when I got the news that their heartbeats had gone silent. I refused to be admitted, and so the doctor went ahead and administered the medication to induce the pregnancy and told me to go home and come back when the contractions were less than five minutes apart. I never went back though. My body must have already started preparing for delivery because the medication worked quickly. I was going to do it on my own, but I panicked and called Amelia when my water broke. I didn't deal well with pain back then. It wasn't something I was accustomed to. She delivered the twins, wrapping each individually in a receiving blanket, and then wrapping them together. When the placenta they shared was delivered she cut the cords and handed me the tiny bundle. I held them with my head turned. I didn't want to see them, but she made me look at them.

'They're beautiful Addison, you need to look at them, if you don't you'll regret not knowing for the rest of your life.' She made sure I was OK and then called the local coroner to collect the bodies. Since they were lost at twenty-three weeks they had to be registered, and death certificates had to be prepared. She called Derek for me when I couldn't summon the strength. She took a picture of the babies and sent it to him. It was the first time. His heart hadn't yet hardened. She held me when the coroner arrived, and I had a complete breakdown at the thought of him taking the babies to the morgue. She stayed with me for two days until Derek was able to return home.

* * *

 **END FLASHBACK**

* * *

"He didn't hurt them Amelia, any of them. He was a good man until I slept with Mark. This is my fault. We are just incompatible, it happens sometimes. When put under unimaginable grief and distress people tend to act unpredictably." I think about the twins again, and then the little boy, and how after he was born sleeping at twenty-eight weeks we stopped announcing the pregnancies. Only Amelia and Mark knew about the other losses. I never made it out of the first trimester with the others anyway. I think now to the baby born in room. Born healthy according to the autopsy report. A miracle. Could he _really_ have _hurt he_ r after all that we've been through? I don't think so, but do I really know what he's capable of? I never thought he would beat me, or rape me, or lock me away either. Then an unexpected emotion swells up. Overwhelming guilt. If I hadn't been convinced she died, if I didn't beg to be sedated, would she still be alive today? Would I have decided to keep her instead of giving her to Derek like we had planned? Did my fear and my inability to cope cause her death?

* * *

 **The next day**

* * *

I allow Emmerson to go with Mark for the day. He has decided that they need some father son bonding item and would have a great time if they spent the day at the Woodland Park Zoo, seeing real animals and eating sweets and popcorn. I take a uber to the hospital. It isn't hard to find Meredith, she was in surgery, but I wait for her in the scrub room.

"Addison?" She asks, shocked, walking out of the OR around an hour later to scrub out.

"I'm sorry to ambush you." I say quietly, picking at my cuticles. My heart is racing, and I'm not exactly sure what I am going to say.

"You look better than the last time I've saw you." She says, and she sounds genuine, although my brain is yelling at me that she's just being kind.

"Apparently eating regularly helps, who knew right?" I say sarcastically, but I try to adjust my tone with the next part. "I am being pressured by Mark and Amelia to file charges." Mark had started an argument this morning. It was a low blow really. He stated that I must have liked being beaten and raped because if I didn't I would raise hell and put Derek away. I decided it was best to just let it go. He is grieving too. I couldn't expect him to be a knight in shining whatever and save me. He is only human. Something keeps tugging at me though, did I always back down this easily from a fight though or was it something that was conditioned into me in Room in an effort to avoid punishment? I am really struggling to remember who I was before then.

"Oh-kay well good luck with that." She says, moving to leave.

"Meredith please- wait." I say, catching her hand and she turns back around, her eyes are pitty mixed with conflict and I want to scream. Does everyone look at me like that, or am I just imagining it?

"I want to drop the charges." He could have killed me immediately upon finding out I was pregnant with Mark's child, but instead, after locking me away, he showed me some weird form of _grace_. He could have left me to die, but he took care of me.

"So, go down to the police department and drop the charges then."

"What would you have done" I ask, "If our situations were reversed I mean." She pauses and thinks on this for a moment.

"I don't know." She finally says, and her tone is gentle, but hurt. "I've been thinking about that a lot, and I just don't know the same man you do, and right now," Her voice breaks as she struggles to keep it together. "Right now, all I know is that my son cries every night because Derek isn't there to tuck him in, and he's frightened because we've had to move from the only home he's ever known. Right now, what I would have done isn't relevant."

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

Hi everyone! Thank you for reading! Do you think that Addison will be strong enough to testify in court? I was doing some research and technically the state would be able to make a case without her due to the amount of evidence there is against Derek, but….. I don't know. Right now, I think she is feeling all the feelings and is confused about what she truly wants. She isn't thinking clearly. I think she very much suffers from Stockholm Syndrome due to the things she experienced while in Room. **Stockholm Syndrome** was originally developed to explain the phenomenon of hostages bonding with their captors. The following explanation has been put forward for the phenomenon. The abuser (or captor) terrifies the victim, who cannot escape, by threatening his or her physical or psychological survival. As a result of being terrified the victim needs nurturance and protection. Being isolated from others, the victim must turn to the abuser for this if s/he turns to anyone. If the abuser shows the victim some small kindness this creates hope in the victim, who then ignores her rage at the terror-creating side of the abuser (because this rage would be experienced as overwhelming) and bonds to the positive side of the abuser. With the hope that the abuser will let him or her live, the victim works to keep the abuser happy. In trying to determine what will keep the abuser happy, the victim's own needs, feelings and perspectives must take second place and s/he unconsciously takes on the world view of the abuser.


	9. Chapter 8

**Room**

 **Chapter 8:**

* * *

 **Authors Note:** Sorry it's been so long! I lost motivation to write anything for a while, finally gaining momentum with writing again, trying to get everything updated, needed to get some of the other ideas out of my headfirst though. Thank you to everyone who has stayed here and keeps reading and reviewing!

* * *

"I'm sorry ma'am, but like we told you the last several times you have come down, the charges against your husband cannot be dropped." The officer says, and I try my best to remain composed.

"Why not?" I demand. "I was being unduly pressured to testify against him, and I was not in my right mind when I made my statement. I had JUST come to after a suicide attempt, do you really think that is credible?" I know that I didn't take enough of the medicine to kill me, but I took enough that they pumped my stomach at the hospital based off Emmerson telling them I drank all four bottles. The perfect cover up to make me look insane.

"There is too much evidence against him." The officer explained, and I give him a look of distain. "He will have to face a trial; the judge will decide."

"His….." It seemed wrong to say wife, they weren't legally married. "Meredith" I finally settle "saved my life; she saved my sons life."

"We have already taken that into consideration Mrs. Shepherd. Dr. Grey will not be charged an accomplice to this crime, it was clear she had no knowledge of what was going on. I'm sorry, but that's the best we can offer at this time."

"That is absolute nonsense." I say, tapping my nails on his desk, before turning to leave. "I should get a say in what happens to him. There has to be something that can be done. There is always a way. He has a small child at home, his son is only four years old and Meredith, she's pregnant with another one.!" I am not sure why I am bringing up Meredith's children but the thought of them growing up without a father because of something I did….

"I have seen your case file Mrs. Shepherd, including the doctor's reports." He says, and I flush crimson, knowing that they did a rape kit when I was admitted to the hospital and it came up as a match for Derek. There was tearing, bruising and scarring. The pictures of the bruises that littered my body were in there, and pictures of my emaciated body submitted as evidence that Derek should not be set free. I had no choice in this. They did all these things before I came to. "If someone is threatening you, to get you to drop the charges we can provide you protection, otherwise, I wouldn't feel too guilty. People with children commit crimes all the time, and in the grand scheme of things the kids are probably better off growing up without a father like _that_."

* * *

"Momma look what we did! Look Momma!" Emmerson runs up to me handing me a piece of paper he had colored on with crayons. "I was scared when I got back and you were gonned, but Mark said you were OK and _'Let's do art, Momma will be back soon.'_. and so, we did and I made this for you!" I take the picture, smiling and then pick him up, admiring the picture and then swirling him around. "I love it baby, thank you." I say, sitting him down, and telling him to go play in the playroom while I talk to Mark. He runs off, and I hear him crash into the ball pit giggling so hard.

"Where were you?" He asks.

"I went to the police station."

"Oh did they need something new?"

"No…" I say, and then for whatever stupid reason decide to be honest. "I went again to drop the charges, but they wouldn't let me."

"Why would you do such a stupid thing like that?" Mark asks, understandably upset.

"He could get life without parole and I - I just." I am at a loss for words.

"Are you still in love with him?"

"No! Mark I-" I pause give him a look of disgust. "Seriously? That's where your mind went?"

"Well there is no other explanation for this behavior is there?"

"He was kind to me. He allowed me to keep Emmerson safe. He brought us food and clothing. We had air conditioning and heat. He didn't have to do any of that. He could have locked the door and left me to die. He showed me mercy when he could have just -" I say, trying to keep my tone in check, not wanting Emmerson to overhear and get upset by our raised voices.

"I've seen your medical files Addison. I'm still your emergency contact, you're going to have to try a little harder than that. What he did to you is no form of mercy." He says, shaking his head, and I feel a certain shame. A dirty shame. Has the entire world seen my medical records? I want to take a bath and scrub, so hard with a scouring pad and bleach. Just the thought of how many people has seen THAT file makes me want to vomit.

"Please don't…" I practically beg, but he goes on.

"It's been over a month and the bruises still haven't completely faded."

"It's my fault Mark. I was disobedient, I mouthed off. I didn't…. Do what he wanted."

"You are not his dog to train Addison…. You are your own person, court begins _tomorrow_ , how are you going to handle this?" He asks, and that reminds me of my appointment with my attorney later this evening.

"I can't testify Mark."

"You have to."

"I can't." I argue, trying to force my breathing as I feel a panic attack coming on. He pulls me down on top of him in the lounge chair, and as if no time at all had passed, I lay my head on his shoulder, while he rubs my back. Waiting for the tears to stop, whispering comforting words.

"I wish I was dead." I murmur, raising my head, looking him in the eyes. I don't know why I say it. My entire world stopped when I was taken, but everyone else's worlds kept on spinning. "I can't live like this Mark. If he finds me, he'll…."

"He can't do anything to you if he's locked away. For now, you need to rest, just relax until it's time to leave for your meeting."

"I can't relax, I never relax." I say, but Emmerson comes out then, eyeing us suspiciously.

"Did Mark make you cry?" He demands.

"No baby, Momma's just sad."

"Why?"

"Your Momma is sad, because tomorrow she has to be _very brave_ , and tell a judge what happened in Room, what has to be done is scary for your Momma and being scared makes her sad." Mark offers.

"I'm glad you didn't hurted her, because I want to stay here _forever_ , and if you hurted her, now that we're free from Derek, and live in a room with opening doors Momma would take me up and we would leave right out that door!" Emmerson says, matter of fact-ly, before coming over to me and giving me a big, tight, hug.

"I would never hurt your Momma Emmerson." Mark reassures him. "I love you both, very much."

"I don't know if we can stay here Emmy." I say, lifting my head, and looking at Mark questioningly. "Is there enough room for us all?"

"What do you mean is there room?" Emmerson explodes before Mark can answer. "This place is ginormous!" He hops down and stars spinning around all the open space. "There's my room, and the playroom, _TWO_ bathrooms, and Mark could sleep with you in his room stead of on the couch, you shared Room with Derek, so obvious-lwery it's ok to share. Plus, we shared room when Derek was gonned." He says, dancing around, holding his toy tight, making the dinosaur with an astronaut helmet on it fly. Twirling with him as he twirled. How does he never get dizzy?

"Emmerson you should -" I start, but I don't know what to say, I look at Mark. Mouthing _"I'm Sorry."_ Every day I am horrified and reminded of how the things that happened in room were not strange or even particularly traumatizing for Emmerson. They were his normal.

"Why don't you go color another picture, and we can hang it on the fridge?" Mark asks, and Emmerson thinks for a second, and then smiles and runs off to get his coloring book and crayons. We watch on the monitor as he sits down at the desk in his room, taking out each crayon and arranging them just so before opening the coloring book and getting started.

"The lawyer is getting his testimony on tape this afternoon, they agreed he would not have to testify in open court. The recording will be played for the journey to see at your trial." There was a competency hearing last week, and although Emmerson was declared competent to stand trial, the lawyers and the judge agreed that it would be in his best interest to not testify in open court.

"I know." I say, my heart shattering. "Nothing happened to him Mark."

"Maybe not, but there is no way he didn't witness what happened to you." Mark answers, and I recoil when I think of the nights, he heard me screaming when Derek hurt me, or even at night into my pillow, and crying myself to sleep after Derek was 'finished' with his nightly _'routine'_. I tried so hard to be _good_ , to be _quiet_ , to just do what he wanted me to do, during that time, but sometimes that wasn't always possible, which ended badly. I am crying again just thinking about this. Would he be scared? Would they show him kindness? I thank God that he won't have to testify in front of Derek. At least they showed him a bit of compassion.

* * *

"I can't testify in an open court."

"The trial is tomorrow, Mrs. Shepherd." I cringe when she calls me this. _Shepherd_. Everyone calls me this, it is my name, normally I just ignore them, but I am on edge, and everything is getting to me now. I need Derek to sign the divorce papers. I should have never taken his last name, but the things you do when you are madly in love are…. Well…. Neverminded. I wish Mark was here. I feel a little safer when he is close, but he is down the hall, with the children specialist, supervising from the other side of one-way glass as they record Emmerson's testimony.

"I know…" I whisper, trembling, we have been meeting and prepping for trial for weeks. "I'm not ready."

"I don't think you will ever be ready, no one is ever ready, but you can be prepared let's go over your statement again."

We go over my statement four or five times. I lose count. The last time we do I have to stop and grab the trashcan because I start throwing up and I don't stop until I am dry heaving and sobbing, apologizing over and over. Afraid to move, in case I cannot make it to the back of the office building to the restroom quickly enough if another round comes. Not sure that I have the strength to move even if I wanted to.

"I can't….. I just can't do this." My head is pounding, and I see flashing, blinking lights, like little specks of glitter almost.

"I did everything I could Addison, the judge wouldn't budge. I'm so sorry." She leaves and comes back with a cool washcloth for me to wipe my face off with. Mark comes in then, with a chipper Emmerson, and I try to smile, but it is lost, as he starts chattering on about how cool the video equipment is that recorded him, and how the he was _IN TV_ like a movie star. Obviously, this wasn't as traumatic for him as I thought it would be. He looks down at me, sitting on the ground, clinging the trashcan and frowns.

"Is there a baby in your tummy?" He asks.

"What? Emmerson No. I'm OK. What would make you think that?" I ask, confused and slightly horrified.

"When we lived in Room you only threw up when sister was in your tummy."

"It's just a tummy ache." I assure him, I wipe my mouth again, and then pull him towards me, hugging him so tight. Our eyes lock, and I can see he is still concerned, but thankfully he lets it, and he eventually smiles back up at me. I don't want him to feel this stress that I am under. He is a child. It is not his weight to carry.

"Let's meet early tomorrow morning then, hopefully you'll feel better after you've had some rest." My lawyer says, and I nod, allowing Mark to help me up so we can leave.

* * *

Mark insists we get a light dinner, and by the time we get home it's late. I give Emmerson a hug and a kiss. I tell him I love him before tucking him into bed. He is out almost instantly. In the kitchen I pour myself a glass of wine and sit down at the table, trying to consider my options, to come up with a plan to get me through the weeks, possibly even months of a trial.

"Are you sure you should be drinking? Your barley had any dinner."

"It was just an anxiety attack, I'm fine now." I answer.

"Are you though? Really?" He asks, and I try to smile, but I just can't summon the strength. He looks worried, and I am struck with guilt. If I were in his position, I know I would feel the same. Please let everything go smoothly. Please let this be over quickly.

"I just want to go to bed." I say. "I have to be back at the lawyer's office at 8am."

"Go ahead, you need your rest." He says, watching me finish the drink.

"Actually Mark…."

"Yeah?"

"Will you come lay by me?" I ask, my voice small, like that of a child scared of monsters under the bed. I am annoyed at how needy I sound.

"Are you sure?"

"I get scared at night." I try to explain, "I have nightmares and…. please? Just for a little while?"

"Ok." He agrees, after what feels like an eternity of him just watching me. I try to remember what he was like before all this happened, funny, sly, adventurous, playful. He has changed since Emmerson and I were rescued from Room. Almost like he grew up, but not really for the better. I am sure it will pass in time, but he is too careful around me, too gentle, like I am something fragile and the slightest touch will break me. I do not want a full-blown relationship, I am not ready for that and neither is he, I just want to be treated normally.

We lay down and I rest my head on his chest, listing to the all too familiar sound of his heartbeat. We talk about little things that don't really matter; we make plans for the weeks to come. My main goal being that I wanted to go back to work. His main goal being keeping me from work, until I've had time to recover. We talk about Emmerson, and how brave he was today during the interviews, Mark told me I did a good job raising him, that he is an amazingly resilient child. Eventually he falls asleep, holding me, but I can't sleep. I lay still and wait until the clock says 4:30am before getting up and going to the bathroom to shower.

I don't know what I am doing. I didn't plan it, but when I am in the bathroom everything hits me all at once. I am sobbing and I can't breathe as I sink down onto the floor of the bathroom, folding over so my head is resting on my knees. The anxiety alone is so intense I think perhaps I will pass out, but I don't, and it just keeps building. I am not in my right mind. The first thing that comes to mind is 'it's a cancer' 'cut it out' 'release it' I cry harder, the thought scares me.

I find myself lifting myself up from the shower floor and opening the bathroom cabinet where Mark keeps a surgical tray with instruments. I don't know why he does this, but it is ancient. He has carried it around with him since our first year in medical school. I don't even know where he got it. I pick up the scalpel, feeling the weight of the metal in my hand. How long has it been since I held one of these? I look at my wrist, it's the easiest access point. I put the blade to my skin several times, and then remove it again, afraid of the consequences. Eventually I put the blade to my skin, at the elbow and press down, pulling, down the inside of my arm to my wrist. I don't feel anything at first, but by the time the blade is at my wrist I am having to force myself to keep from crying out in pain. I switch hands, and then cut the other arm as well. Just a little bit deeper and the anxiety will be released, like a volcano erupting. I sigh, feeling an enormous sense of relief, as I can feel my body start to relax for the first time in years. I smile why didn't I think of this before? Was it really this _simple_? I am in complete euphoria for a few minutes until I look down at my arms and see how quickly the blood is being lost. I panic. I don't _want_ to die. I didn't do this to _die_. I must have pressed too hard. I no longer have that gentle surgeon's touch. I try and lift myself off the shower floor where I had sunk back down, but I am too weak. A thousand things race through my head at once, but I feel like I am going to pass out or vomit, or both.

"MARK?" I try screaming, but it comes out quieter than expected. _'Please let him have heard me.'_ I beg, but he doesn't come right away. I try again, this time a little louder. Why does such a simple name take so much focus? So much energy to make come out correctly?

"Addison?" I hear, and the door rattles as he turns the knob. The look on his face is horrendous as he asks, "What have you done?" quickly turning off the shower and grabbing towels, bandages, and dropping down to the floor beside me.

"I'm sorry. Mark I'm sorry." I whimper. He wraps my arms tightly in towels, and then goes around the towels even tighter in an ace bandage each to hold the pressure on my arms, while he calls 9-1-1. With the pressure on my arms, I am beginning to feel a tiny bit better, less woozy anyway. He picks me up and brings me over to the bed, helping me to dress while we wait for the ambulance, knowing I wouldn't want anyone else to see me like this. My hands are cold, so cold.

"It's OK, Addison you're going to be fine, but you will need surgery to repair these lacerations." He says eying the blood is starting to show through the towels and the bandages.

"I'm sorry." I cry again. "This isn't what it looks like… Mark I swear."

"You say you want to die and then I find you on the shower floor in a pool of your own blood. What else would it be?" He asks, but he doesn't sound angry, just sad. I don't answer him. I don't know what I was thinking. I just needed a…. release. I can't explain it.

The ambulance workers arrive then, and Mark lets them in. They lay me on a gurney, and I am shivering so hard that they put a warming blanket on me. I am so tired. I struggle to keep my eyes open as Mark tells me he is going to get Emmerson, and they will meet me at the hospital.

"I'm sorry." I repeat through tired tears, before my vision starts to tunnel, and everything fades into darkness.


	10. Chapter 9

**Room:**

Chapter 9:

* * *

 **Addison's POV:**

* * *

"Why did you do it?" Mark asks, as I raise into consciousness, coughing, and blinking hard. Trying to force the sleep from my eyes. He looks tired, worn down, but more than that, annoyance shines through his eyes. His voice softens and he ads… "They wanted to put you in restraints, but I told them I'd watch you, convinced them not to. You're not dangerous Addison." There are lights around him, spinning and blinking. I wonder what medications they have given me to cause this odd, nauseating effect.

"Do what?" I ask, closing my eyes, and keeping them closed. I try to will the world to stop spinning, but it does not. I rest against the pillow trying to visualize his expression without having to see the twirling lights.

"You know what you did and so do I." He accuses, his calmness scares me. I have been away from Derek for months now, and my heart still races, feeling as if it will explode from anxiety when I know anyone is upset with me. It usually does not release until the person screams at me, or I get the punishment deserved for whatever action cause their anger. Mark never screams though. Mark does not hurt me. Not with his words, or his hands.

"Why did I try and commit suicide?" I ask, just aware enough to simulate confusion.

"You'll be happy to know that in light of your 'delicate' situation they used the video recording of your testimony at the trial today." He says, and a wave of relief washes over me. At least they did not postpone the trial or acquit Derek. "The jury is still out; they are expected to have reached a decision by noon tomorrow."

"I hope he rots in jail." I murmur feeling particularly generous in my wishes.

"This isn't who you are Addison." Mark says, sitting down on the bed beside me.

"Who am I then?" I ask. The person I was before Room seems like a fairy-tale. Something forged from a dream or a fantasy. Am I so different than I was before Room, or am I just imagining it? Maybe this is who I have been all along, and the Addison before Room was the imposter.

"The Addison I know would have never done something so…. reckless."

"I did what I had to do to survive."

"You faked a suicide attempt to avoid testifying in court."

"I did not." I protest.

"Who's going to take care of Emmerson if anyone finds out and you end up in prison?"

"I'm sorry you're having a hard time with this, but I tried to commit suicide and failed, that is _not a crime_ Mark." I look at him now, putting a emphasis on 'not a crime.' Begging, imploring for him to drop this.

"That's bullshit Addison and you know it. You are a brilliant surgeon. If you wanted to commit suicide you are smart enough that you could have been dead in seconds." He objects, and I lay still, trying to piece together what he is saying. I try to think of a way that could be true, but my brain is having a hard time focusing.

"I was brilliant before -"

"You _will be_ brilliant again."

"I will never be the person that I was. Do you know _he_ snapped my wrist? Even if I _wanted to,_ I could never operate again."

"There is surgery to repair the old break, and physical therapy. If you want this, you can do it Addison. You do not have to limit yourself to what _HE_ made you think that you are, you are so much more than the girl who got abducted and locked in the garden shed. You just have to remember."

"Is Emmerson OK?" I ask, changing the subject. Marks obsessive desire to make me feel better about myself is just too much. I swallow hard, trying to push the lump down in my throat. I will not cry. I will NOT cry. I do not know why I did what I did.

"He's holding up as well as can be expected."

"Don't bring him to visit. I don't want him to see the bandages and be frightened."

"He needs to see you Addison. You were the only constant person in his life for the first five years, and now you're suddenly gone and he's stuck in the hospital daycare with a teacher and children he doesn't know, being exposed to God only knows what."

"He doesn't need to see _this_. He is almost caught up on his vaccines now, he's fine."

"His immune system just isn't built up enough Addison. He needs to be at home, where he is safe until his immune system has had more time to adjust to the outside world, you know this."

"So, hire a Nanny. I do not want him to constantly see me in the hospital. I don't want him to be afraid."

"He is already afraid Addison, there is no preventing it. He thinks you are _'gone'_ again. I really do not understand how you can down several bottles of medication right in front of him, leaving him to cry over your inebriated body until help arrived, but you don't want him to see you when you're actually fine. Because your arms are bandaged, and you're hooked up to IV antibiotics?"

"If I didn't take that medicine we would still be stuck in Room. Would you rather we still be there?"

"Addison, you know that's not what I meant. I thank God, every day, that you and Emmerson are here, that you're safe."

"Also STOP bringing Emmerson into this! You have known him what? Six weeks ? You barley even know him, and you have NO IDEA what it was like in Room." I catch my breath. I am trembling. I am in Room. I can smell the damp air, infused with the scent of cheap laundry detergent, I see our tattered clothing hanging on the line Derek hung across the small area. The door beeps and he is in Room. Derek is too big for such a small space. Derek easily pushes me down onto the bed. Kissing too hard. Pulling my hair, his kisses moving down my body. I shake my head hard. Attempting to clear the image from my head. "You have NO IDEA the things I went through to keep us safe. I was with Emmerson this whole time. Against all odds I kept him alive. Where were you?"

"You act like I had a choice. We looked for you, _everywhere_ Addison."

"Well you should have looked harder."

"We did _everything_ we could do, there was a full police investigation. We handed out flyers and made sure there was news coverage over all the the news stations, and social media as well, begging for information."

"Emmerson and I were right here _the entire time_." I am crying now; the medication is wearing off and pain is starting to become more noticeable. I look up to the iv poll. They do not have me hooked up to a patient-controlled analgesia, I guess it makes sense that they don't. Someone was smart enough to realize that I am a doctor, and I could easily change the settings and give myself a lethal dose.

Mark throws his hands in the air in defeat, turning to leave.

"Wait… Where are you going?" I ask him. It is an odd feeling. I don't really want him here, but I don't really want him to leave either besides that am I even allowed to be alone right now? My second question answered when Amelia walks in, and instead of checking my vitals or doing anything useful sits down on the chair that Mark had abandoned.

"I am going to get our son." He says, and there are tears in his eyes when he turns back around. "He deserves to know that you are alive, that you are OK. He doesn't deserve the anguish that your little stunt has put him through, because you're too ashamed to admit the truth. Your shame is not his burden to carry." He turns and storms out the door, slamming it hard behind him.

We sit in silence looking at the door for an eternity. Finally, she moves, sitting on the bed next to me, instead of the hard-uncomfortable chair.

"Are you OK?" She asks. It takes me a few minutes to respond. I think I am in shock.

"I don't know."

"What was that?" She asks, gesturing towards the door.

"Is Emmerson really as traumatized as Mark seems to believe?" I ask her.

"It's not my place to say Addison."

"Please? You're my sister. It is your place."

"You really scared us all. We thought we lost you…. Again."

"I'm sorry." I say, and I really mean it. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. It wasn't supposed to get this bad or go this far.

"Do you want to talk about Mark?" Amelia asks, and my face crushes, she pulls me close to her, rubbing my back, allowing me to cry on her shoulder. I don't immediately pull away. I miss being close to other adults who want to be close to me for reasons that have nothing to do with sex. The brief weeks with Mark haven't undone the years locked away in Room with Derek. The sensory deprivation, the lack of basic, adult, interactions. I just want to feel human again.

"He thinks I did this to get out of the trial." I say, grimacing.

"Well did you?"

"No."

"Do you want to die?"

"I don't know, Amelia."

"It was a really rough trial. I am grateful you weren't there." She says, and I wonder what all they submitted as evidence.

"Do you think he will go to prison?" I ask, looking up at her, and she shakes her head sadly.

"I don't know." She admits. "Meredith passed out while testifying. She had to be taken to the hospital by ambulance."

"Is she OK? Is the baby OK?" I ask, not sure why I even care. I feel suddenly guilty though. If I were there, I could have helped. _'Great. Now if anything happens to that baby of hers, I am at least partially responsible. She wouldn't be in court, wouldn't be under this level of stress if Emmerson and I were still in Room.'_ I catch myself thinking.

"I haven't heard anything on the baby yet, and I didn't tell you this, but she hit her head pretty hard, I'm waiting for her CT scan results now."

"So why _did_ you tell me this?"

"I'm worried that the jury may be swayed in Derek's direction. The pregnant wife of the accused being under so much stress that she passes out in the middle of open court is pretty sympathy inducing, although, I don't know how that weighs against an attempted suicide."

"I don't even care anymore, Amelia."

"Honestly, I think it is the opposite. You care too much. You feel things too deeply."

"I didn't mean to cut that deep. The way my wrist was broken…"

"Shhh you don't have to explain."

"… I couldn't feel how much pressure I was applying." I finish, the explanation anyway. My heart aches. Mourning surgeries that will be left undone or done by substandard providers because I am no longer able to operate. All the babies, born too soon, who may not be able to be saved in time, because the surgeries are too advanced, too complicated for most providers. If I cannot even, make a simple incision on my arm without almost dying how could I ever trust myself to cut someone else. One has absolutely nothing to do with the other, but my mind is racing and when it races everything jumbles, and everything is related.

"Addie" She whispers soothingly "Things happen. You made a mistake, and the reasons why don't matter. People make mistakes, Addison. It's not the mistake that defines you. It's how you come back from it." She gives me a tight hug.

Emmerson bursts into the hospital room, a huge smile on his face and a "get well soon" card in his hand. He puts the card down on the little nightstand before climbing up onto the bed.

"Emmerson careful!" Mark scolds gently. "Please be careful of Momma's arms."

"I'm always careful!" He protests. "Stop treating me like a baby! I'm NOT a baby! I'm FIVE!" His smile and bubbly demeanor turning glum at Mark's correction.

"Emmerson!" I exclaim, but he is sitting on the edge of the bed now, looking straight at me.

"You don't get an opinion either!" He screams, with no malice in his voice, only the frustration of a little boy who's been through too much. " _You_ left-ed me with him, _you_ tried to be gone-ed again and _he_ doesn't even know how to work Minecraft or tell stories in the right voices and SHE…" he says, looking at Amelia. "She _isn't YOU; she isn't Momma_." He says, his voice breaking as he melts into tears, and crawled up on my chest, resting his head directly over my heart. I hold him as tightly as I can with my bandaged arms, ignoring the pain putting pressure on my arms causes. Ignoring the fact that he was being overly harsh on Mark. He didn't know how to play Minecraft either six weeks ago. How quickly the extreme deprivation we were in in Room can be forgotten by a young child, when all their needs, and wants are suddenly being taken care of.

"I'm sorry Emmy… It was an accident; I wasn't trying to be gone. I would never leave you."

"But you did leave me, _twice_." He whimpers into my chest.

Emmerson lays on me, just crying for a long time as Mark, Amelia and I talk. They both try to take him from me, at different times, worried that I shouldn't be holding him with my arms, concerned I will end up popping the stitches or somehow causing more damage. He screams, clinging to me and thrashes when they try to take him, and I wave them away each time. He needs me. Mark and Amelia are right, this is too much for him. What was I thinking? My eyes fill with sadness when I think of what the alternative would have been. Would Derek have killed him like he killed the baby girl? Would she be alive today if I had been brave enough to fight for her, instead of begging Derek to sedate me when I thought she was dead?

"Emmerson can stay here tonight." I inform them.

"The nurses would never allow that." Mark objects. "You're not capable of caring for him right now Addison."

"So, make them allow it. It is not like you or Amelia wouldn't be here the entire time baby-sitting me anyway."

* * *

 **AUTHORS NOTE:**

* * *

Thank you thank you for everyone who is reading and reviewing! I really needed some Addison and Mark drama, because everything lately just seems so…. Um… subdued maybe? Compared to my normal writing style. I mean even the last chapter was mild.

SO, Addison and Mark are fighting, he thinks she faked her suicide attempt. Do you think she did, or do you think that it was genuine?

I understand Addison not wanting Emmerson to be anymore traumatized, but I appreciate Mark pushing for a visit. I cannot even imagine what must be going through Emmerson's mind after everything he's already been through.

Progressing on forward, next chapter will include the court's decision. Will Derek remain behind bars, or will he be released?


	11. Chapter 10

**Room:**

 **Chapter 10:**

* * *

"It's been forever and ever when are you coming home?" Emmerson whines as soon as he sees that I am wake after he and Mark walks into the hospital room. He plops a teddy bear and some flowers into my arms, unenthusiastically.

"Soon baby." I soothe. I reach out to hug him, but he turns toward Mark again. I notice for the first time a little boy, around Emmerson's age, peering shyly from behind Marks leg, holding onto him tightly.

"It's OK Dakota…. This is Momma. Momma won't hurt you." Emmerson says, taking Dakota's hand, attempting to pull him over towards my bed, but he digs his feet into the ground holding on, if possible, even tighter to Mark.

"It's OK Kota." Mark pacifies. Dakota pulls on Mark, and he kneels. Whispering something, a little too loud as children tend to do, into Mark's ear.

" _She's the reason my mommy is sick."_ His bottom lip begins to tremble, and his eyes fill with tears _"She's the reason we had to move out of the house my daddy built and into a new house."_ He looks like he is trying hard to compose himself, way more than a child his age ever should. He pops his thumb into his mouth, and begins suckling furiously, just glaring at me.

"Dakota that's not kind."

"No Mark, it's OK, it's the truth." I say quickly. Emmerson seems to give up on Dakota for the moment and climbs up on the bed and cuddles against me. "Dakota is staying with us. Dakota gets to sleep in MY room. It's like having a bestie best friend!"

"That's great Em. I'm glad you have a friend to play with." I say but give Mark a questioning look. My heart stings as Emmerson talks about this little boy, the little boy who he has befriended, who had everything he _deserved_ , but was _deprived_ due to Derek's treatment. "It's been days."

"Meredith was admitted for further observation." He says simply.

"So, he's been with you the entire time?" I bite my bottom lip, not saying what I want to. There is no reason for me to traumatize this child further than he has already been traumatized.

"He sure has, haven't you Dakota?" Mark asks looking down at the little boy, ruffling his hair.

"I want my Mommy and Daddy." Dakota cries, looking up at Mark. "They left me."

"You wanta know something?" Emmerson asks, hopping off the bed, and hopping over towards Dakota.

"What?" Dakota asks sniffling.

"Growed- up's come back."

"Huh?"

"Remember that song from Daniel Tiger? Well it's true. My Momma was gonned twice, and she came back. My Poppa was gone for five YEARS. I didn't even know I had a Poppa and he came back, and Derek was a growed up, I think anyway, and he came back every night. It just PROOVES that the song is true."

"Are you sure?" Dakota asks, his voice crackling.

"I'm super sure!" Emmerson says brightly. "Plus, we're visiting your Momma next."

"Mark…." I say, carefully, "Do you really think this is a good idea?" Derek is in jail, and Meredith, well she is in no position to hurt me, or hurt Emmerson, I want to show empathy, to show compassion, but still the thought of Mark caring for him, makes me weary.

"She didn't have anyone else Addison." He said simply. "She saved your life; she saved our sons life. I am his God Father. It is my duty to step up when needed. The least you could do is show her some grace."

"It's not about showing grace Mark."

"We'll talk about this later, not in front of the boys." He says, cutting me off. I look over to the boys who had taken some little toy cars out of one of their backpacks and were sitting on the plastic hospital couch near the window playing with them.

"I just want you to be careful." I say, lowering my tone. "I don't want Emmerson to get hurt."

"Meredith and Dakota are family Addison, whether you want them to be or not." He says, his voice exceptionally low, so the boys do not hear, but they are not paying us any mind anyway. "I will protect them, just as fiercely as I will protect you and Emmerson. They are not to blame for what _he_ did to you." I just give him a look, not getting a chance to respond, before Amelia walks into the room.

"I thought these two might like to go to the playground before visiting Meredith, I've just been to see her, and she needs to rest for a little while." She said cheerfully, and the boys hop up from the couch, running over to her screaming _"yay"_ and _"playground"_ and _"Can we can we please?"_ and _"Can we also get ice cream?"_

Mark nods, saying they can go, instructing them to pick up their toys first.

"How are you?" Amelia asks, while the boys clean up their toys, putting them back in their backpacks, chattering happily about how they are going to play on the slide, and swing so high on the swings and jump off flying through the sky like superman.

"I'm fine." I say cautiously. "I get to go home tomorrow."

"Good." She says nodding, but Emmerson and Dakota are done picking up their toys now, each having taken one of her hands, and pulling her towards the door. "I'll come check on you later." She says, but then they are gone as the boys pull her towards the door, my heart aches a little bit at how grown up and independent Emmerson is becoming without me. He didn't even say goodbye, just left with Amelia like it was an everyday occurrence, like any of this is normal.

"How _dare_ you bring Dakota here." I hiss, once I no longer hear their footsteps, and cheerful tones in the hallway. "How _dare_ you bring him into your home, into the place where Emmerson is supposed to feel safe."

" _Our_ home," He corrects me, but then "Addison, it's not like that, he is just a child he needs someone." He sits down on the bed next to me, and goes to take my hands, but I pull away from him. He looks hurt that I rejected his touch.

"That someone doesn't have to be _you_." I say, pleading.

"Amelia and I were the only ones who stepped up to take him. Meredith knew it would be hard on you, and she _did_ ask her friends, but no one was available to commit for the indefinite amount of time she needed them for. She doesn't know how long she will have to be hospitalized and on bed rest or restrictions after she is discharged."

"So, you just volunteered? Why is it my problem that she has shitty friends?"

"They have lost _everything_ Addison, try kindheartedness on for once, you might like it."

"I _can't_ Mark."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I don't know how." I admit. "Derek took _everything_ from me. I don't know how to do anything but _survive_."

* * *

 ***The next evening, at home***

* * *

I hadn't been home from the hospital for an hour when my phone and Mark's phone begins going of simultaneously.

"Nobody even has this number." I groan, thinking maybe it was a weird telemarketer before clicking the ignore button. I go back to tending to the children, putting on the requested television program, and rummaging through the refrigerator, trying to figure out something for them to eat for dinner. The reservations, and uneasiness I had about Dakota being here don't completely vanish, but I don't let him see the anxiety I am feeling. I treat him with kindness, like I do my own son. I repeat to myself over and over _'he is only a child. He had nothing to do with this.'_ to get me through. I am surprised to find myself smiling observing them play with their toys. Marks phone rings again, and he answers it this time. It's from different number, all too familiar even after all these years, it is the hospital. (206) 555-6000. What on earth? Mark turns up the TV volume so the kids do not overhear the conversation and answers the phone. His face whitens, and despite the phone not being on speaker phone, I can hear why. A woman is screaming. I give him a questioning look, but he just shakes his head at me, holding up a finger to signal he needs a minute and jotting several notes down on the notepad attached to the fridge.

' _I'll talk to her.'_

' _I promise I'll see what I can do.'_

' _Ok, I'll talk to her, it's going to be ok. I'll call you right back, give me a few minutes.'_

I hear a woman screaming, and sobbing on the other end of the line, and someone else's voice, trying to calm her, the woman screams _'Please Call Addison'_ clearly not knowing who the other person was on the phone with Mark before Mark says again, _'Just give me a few minutes, I'll call you right back.'_ And hangs up the phone.

"What's that about?" I ask him, a feeling of panic and concern rising within me. He looks shaken to the core.

"The hospital needs a consult." He says, his face grim. "Meredith is in preterm labor, and she's refusing all treatment, she is begging them to call you, and have you review her case." I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation, until I realize that Mark isn't joking.

"What does she want me for?" I ask, swallowing hard. "I can't help her. I haven't received my new medical license in the mail yet, I don't have medical or surgical privileges at the hospital…" My medical license had expired while I was in Room and although I went through all the steps to get a new medical license, it is a process. I didn't even know that I wanted to go through the trouble, but Mark made me, saying, if worse comes to worse at least I could still be a damn good medical teacher.

"I think she's just scared." Mark says gently. "Richard assures me that the attending OBGYN is ready for your assistance, despite your obvious credential flaws." My new medical license was approved, all fees paid, and Mark had delivered a copy of that paper to Richard weeks ago, saying that he should have it just in case. I still haven't received my physical copy. I am sure it could be looked up, if it were ever needed, certain there is an online database. The hospital will likely have a copy before I do. It wasn't supposed to matter though. I wasn't supposed to be going back to work, not until I have the operation, and then the physical therapy to correct the break in my hand and wrist.

"They deliver preemies every day, they don't _need_ me. I am sure whoever is attending will do an adequate job." I don't want anything to happen to her, or her baby, but this is not a great comfort. I look at the clock. It is 6pm. The evening shift will have taken over. Likely a resident who drew the short end of the stick and got placed on nightshift, and several nervous first year interns.

"Meredith needs you, or at least she thinks she does. Addison please, she's only 28 weeks."

I shake my head, trying to clear all the conflicting thoughts.

"OK, um… you stay here, and I'll take the car. Call to let them know I am on my way, and I will update you as soon as I know anything." I say quickly, grabbing his keys, putting my shoes back on and pulling my hair back, out of my face with a hair tie.

He gently catches my wrist, and instantly I flash back to Derek, and how he would always, purposely grab the wrist he broke, and twist. Knowing that it was almost always sore. A look of pain must have shown through because Mark immediately apologizes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to grab your bad wrist." My eyes had started to tear up. "I just wanted to say, thank you, for helping her."

"It's ok…. Accidents happen." I say. I know he didn't mean to hurt me, but I have to shake my head hard to get all of the times that Derek has grabbed me out of it. My wrist tingles with pain, and I massage it for a second. "I'll do what I can." I say quickly, grabbing my bag and leaving.

* * *

"What happened?" I ask quickly, walking into Meredith's room. Richard had been waiting at the hospital entrance with a hospital security ID badge, they had used my old picture from nearly 8 years ago now. When was it taken? 2005? I had starred at this person's face, as if she couldn't possibly be ME. So beautiful with her hair just so, perfect make up, and designer clothing. Was I really that person? I clipped it to the pocket of my top as I take in the scene before me. Meredith tear streaked sitting on the edge of the bed, with the pink and blue monitor bands around her stomach. I lift up the paper from the monitor and resist the urge to sigh in relief. Contractions every 10 minutes, baby's heart rhythms are steady. _No signs of distress._ Though it is only a matter of time if she doesn't calm down and accept medical intervention. I try not to think about that. Still not sure why she wants me here, vs her friends, or just about anybody else.

"She woke up around an hour ago when the contractions started, we were going to go with the standard treatment, steroids to mature the baby's lungs, antibiotics to take care of any possible infections, and a magnesium drip as an effort to stop the contractions, and a pregnancy safe pain medication, but after an ultrasound that detected slight cervical change, she freaked out, won't let anyone touch her. Insisting we call-" She looks down at my badge "You." The intern reports.

" _Freaked out_ is not proper medical terminology to use while rounding, Dr. Caravan." I say dismissively, and she leaves muttering something about _'You're not the one in charge anyway.'_ I let it slide. I have more pressing concerns than an interns cheek at the moment.

"Meredith…" I say, moving closer to her, trying to get her attention, but she is crying too hard. I resist the urge to shake her, I can feel my patience is not at the level that it to be. I take a deep breath and try again. "I understand you're scared right now, but…" I try to remain professional, however I can't. I am having a problematic time finding anything worse than this current situation, seeing her vulnerable, afraid, I keep going back to how frightened I was when Emmerson was born, to how I almost certainly caused the death of my daughter by being positive she had died in the womb, and begging to be knocked incautiousness for the labor and delivery. What would she have been like? Would she look like Dakota? Would she have died if I were brave enough to have been awake to protect her? I feel like I am going to vomit as panic rises in me. I froze. I can't move. What if I can't help Meredith?

"You're going to have to let the medical team do their jobs. Right now, you're ok, and your baby is ok, but we need to work together." I find myself saying, my voice eerily calm and professional. She looks up at me and I notice just how red her eyes are. She looks so frail and small on the hospital bed. I almost feel bad for her.

"I'm scared." She admits in a tiny voice.

"I know." I say, nodding.

"I don't want the nurses to check me, or that doctor on call, she's a bitch on wheels, or the interns, and definitely not you." She says, making a face at the _'definitely not you'_ which I completely understand. I mean if the roles were reversed, It's not like we're friends. The nurse double checked a pain medication with me, and I gave the approval that it is safe for use in pregnancy after the first trimester.

"Well for now you need to choose the lesser of the three evils." I say gently "Let's get your IV's set up, and the medication started." A second nurse comes in to start the IV antibiotics, and medications, and then leaves again. Meredith grabs onto my wrist hard, so hard, at the sight of the needles that I scream out in pain, eyes tearing up again, and move my other hand to my mouth as soon as the sound escapes, feeling terrible for making any sound at all. "I'm sorry." I quickly say, and I know I look remorseful, she looks shocked, her eyes wide with confusion, but she let go. "When Emmerson was a baby I fell and…." I look at the nurse, she got the duel port into Meredith's arm without her moving, I feel the obsessive need to justify my breach in professionalism as I watch her draw vial after vial of blood from Meredith's veins. "Well it never mended properly, and so I have to be particularly careful." I say, trying to distract her, she looks sad. I guess she is putting 1+1 together, but nobody in the hospital room would have been able to read between those lines. The nurse gets Meredith's permission to administer the medication, checking her name, and birthday on each to assure the right medication on each bag, and vial, before securing each tube into the port, and injecting the steroids and the pain medication. She connects the IV antibiotics to the lot and wrapped the area with tape so the port wouldn't slip out. She says something to Meredith about being _"all done"_ and _"that wasn't so bad right?"_ before gathering her things and leaving. I grimace. She is talking to her as if she was a small child. Have I ever talked to patients that way?

"This combination will help you relax a little." I tell her. I check the baby's heartrate again, no issues, and Meredith is starting to calm down as well, her vitals are stabilizing. "We are going to give your body a chance to rest and recover. This very well could be brought on by all of the additional stress you've been under this last week." I say, guilt. It is my fault she was in that courtroom testifying. I bite my bottom lip, trying hard to keep a neutral face, but not succeeding.

"Ok, but Addison?" She asks, and I look down at her, she smiles at me, then frowns. I know that the medication must be beginning to kick in, she looks, relieved, though. Her eyes are growing heavy and she looks like she might fall asleep. I help her onto the bed properly, and she lays on her side, pulling the thin blanket up over her.

"Everything's not all about you.…." She trails off, but perks back up for a moment, struggling to keep her eyes from closing. "Don't worry too much. The contractions will stop. They always do." She whispers, as her eyes close, and she falls into an uneventful, yet restless sleep, leaving me to wonder, again, for the millionth time in such a short timeframe what exactly it is they want me here for.

* * *

 **Authors note:**

I wanted to do this quick update, I am going through each of my current stories, as I have the motivation to do so and updating. I really do not know how Addison would feel about Dakota, but this seemed _'right'_ I can see her feeling bitter about Derek's _"perfect"_ life that was going on alongside her life in Room, but despite this showing kindness, becuase really he had nothing to do with her circumstances. I really like the Addison and Meredith; I have no clue why I always love them together. They don't even particularly like each other right now. I don't know if the proper year for the picture is accurate, but meh. We're behind current time anyway. Addison arrived in Seattle in 2005. She was taken in season 3 which would have been 2008. 5 years later would have bought us up to current year being 2013. So I think that would be right. As always thank you for reading, and please consider reviewing!


	12. Chapter 11

**Room:**

 **Chapter 11:**

* * *

"Meredith, you're still 1cm dilated and 25% effaced." I say gently. "The medication is working, you're both doing very well." I take my gloves off, throwing them in the bin, feeling an enormous sense of relief that I will not be delivering a preemie this morning. I wash my hands and check the fetal monitor. The contractions have almost fully stopped. No fetal arrhythmias: the baby is responding to the medication better than I expected. It was somehow determined that since I was the 'new hotshot' on the wing, called in specifically for this case, I had it covered. I reflect on this, feeling it was more to do with Meredith being so nasty to everyone, or perhaps it was Meredith having a full blown anxiety attack as soon as she woke up from them medication, completely delirious, cussing everyone out, and throwing anything she could reach at the staff a few hours after I arrived, than my particular abilities as a doctor. She scared one of the interns senseless. I found her in the hallway later, swearing she was quitting. I think I was able to talk her down, but time will tell. No one _wanted_ to be on Meredith's medical team after that. Pain and grief. It does weird things to people. How could I expect Meredith to be excluded from that reality? I try to think of her as a patient. She is just another patient in preterm labor, I try, but the problem is she's not, and I can't. The nurses and the interns went on to their less challenging patients, and I stayed to monitor her. I don't really belong here anymore anyway. It's so bizarre, so overwhelming to be back in the place that I once considered my home.

' _Please don't call psych.' She had demanded. Her eyes pleading and tearing up before she would allow me to check her. I see now why she would completely lose it at the thought of anyone doing this type of an exam. She had clinched her legs closed tight until I promised I wouldn't make that call. I am not the praying type, but I pray this isn't as bad as it seems. My heart aches, as this woman, is suddenly so relatable, and I am confused by my confliction._

' _Oh Meredith.' I whisper. 'How long has this been going on?' She had superficial cuts, some days old, others scars that looked several months old going all the way up both of her inner thighs. Old scars, and fresh new cuts, proof that this wasn't an isolated incident. I assume she is of the mindset that I will keep my word, and not rat her out since she saved our lives._

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, and the look of horror in her eyes tells me she knows exactly what I am talking about. Her eyes feel with tears, and she shakes her head.

"It's not as bad as it looks. I am careful and it's only been a few months. I absolutely do not want to talk about this with _you_." She puts emphasis on _you_. Like I am the worst possible person in the world she could ever be trapped with at a time like this.

"Well you're stuck with me for the foreseeable future so…." I pause. So what? I gather my thoughts, and it is harder than I thought it would be. This whole situation is just awkward. "I'm all ears if you change your mind." I say in a neutral tone, trying to sound approachable. I sit down on the couch next to the window, pulling my knees up to my chest, and resting my head down on them. I'm tired. I check my phone. 3:45am. Mark will be coming on shift at five, maybe we can have a coffee, and I really want to see Emmerson, they've allowed him into the hospital daycare now that he is fully up to date on his vaccinations, and has been in the outside world longer than six weeks. I was weary of this, but how many germs was he exposed to in Room from Derek working at the hospital, and then coming straight to room before going home to shower? I know he doesn't shower at the hospital before leaving.

"Why do we hate each other so much?" Meredith asks. Her phone dings, and she looks down, smiling at a picture Mark had sent. She turns the photo so I can see. He had set up a real tent in the bedroom and the boys were fast asleep on two children sized air mattresses blown up inside. Camping in the luxury of your own home. Isn't that something? Some people love camping, with the outside, and the fresh air. I have never been though so I can't say if I'd have liked it or not. I asked once, when all of the other girls in my year at school were going to summer camp. Bizzy had forbidden it.

"I don't hate you Meredith." I admit. "I just…." I realize for the first time that I had sub cautiously pushed up the long sleeves of my top. It is boiling in the maternity wing tonight. When had I done this? How many people had seen my unbandaged arms? "I just don't know you." I finish carefully.

"So, do you want to talk?" She asks, mimicking my offer. I know she has noticed my uncovered arms, but even if she hadn't it wasn't exactly a secret that I tried to end my own life. If I weren't so damn fidgety, maybe she wouldn't have even noticed. I am uncomfortable, and when I am uncomfortable, I fidget and that is echoing. I pull my sleeves back down.

"Not particularly." My arms are so sore. I haven't had any pain medication since I left the hospital. I sit up and rub them, trying to ease the ache without disturbing the stitches. I hadn't wrapped them back up before I came to the hospital.

"I stood up for you in court, for Emmerson, for your unborn baby." She says, and now it's my turn to be even more confused. No one told me this. "I testified _against_ him." She clarifies, as if I didn't understand her first statement.

"Why would you do that?" I ask, automatically suspicious, what if she has some kind of an agenda. What if she wants me to think she is on my side, but in reality, she is going to find away to use my words against me to help Derek get released? I think back to those early weeks fresh out of Room where Meredith was pleading for me to drop the charges, back to when I had tried to drop the charges, convinced that Derek didn't deserve to be locked away.

"I don't know." She admits. "When I found you, you were so…." a look floods her face, sadness, despair, I guess she decides to go in a different direction though, because she doesn't continue with that. Instead she says "It's not the same, I know it's not, but we were both hurt by Derek. I didn't realize what he was doing." Her face flushes red and she struggles to come up with the words. I keep my focus on her, listening hard. "This is the sixth time I've been in preterm labor with this baby. I was hospitalized for the last three months with Dakota." She throws her hands up, like she is only tired of everything.

"What? That's not in your medical record. That information would have been useful. I checked earlier when you said…." But she cuts me off.

"It wouldn't be in my charts." She says quickly. "Derek, he forbid me to come here this pregnancy, and Dakota was born at the Children's Hospital downtown." I must look confused because she continues "Richard couldn't find another OBGYN with your …. _experience_ …. It took him over a year to find a replacement and even then, anyone high risk was transferred to Seattle Children's."

" _You work here_." I point out. She shakes her head hard.

"I meant…. He wouldn't let me come here for treatment. He was afraid I would ruin his career. I don't have the best _'filter'_ when I am drugged, or in pain, or afraid."

"What did you do?" I don't understand how she was able to manage preterm labor at home with no intervention. Over the counter drugs wouldn't have been enough.

"I justified the way he treated our family for so long. Because he didn't hit us. He didn't rape us, and he didn't lock us away. He was a good provider. I have a wonderful job that he helped me progress through. I am an amazing surgeon. He was a wonderful father." She spills all this out quickly, she looks down at her hands, watches the medication flowing through her IV. "The way he spoke to us though, his expressions, his expectations, and the consequences of not meeting them, the way he isolated us from friends and family and monitored our every move. I thought we were fine, lucky even to have such a wonderful family. Because he didn't hit us. I am so stupid." She had taken off her oxygen mask at some point during her word vomit and is crying hard now in anger. The oxygen monitor begins beeping and I look to the different monitors, her stats are reflecting. I help her put it back into place.

"You're not stupid." I say, after she calms down. "You're human."

"You have every right to hate me." She says, shaking her head.

"I already told you, I don't hate you Meredith."

"I used you, and I'm so sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"I looked up the articles you wrote on treating preterm labor. I stole the supplies from the hospital and then locked myself in the on-call room, you know the one on the 2nd floor that no one goes in because they swear it's haunted?" She asks I nod trying to understand. "I treated myself. The contractions always stopped within a couple of hours. No one ever found out."

"Stop…. We both did what we had to do to save our families." I say, a finality in my tone, realizing just how much she has risked. Without proper monitoring of the fetus intervention can do more harm than good, can even be deadly. I am thankful that I at the very least had put the recommended doses of the medications in articles I had published to the medical journals. She would have had some guideline to go by. My phone rings then and I pick up automatically without thinking about it.

"Hello?" I ask, wearily into the phone.

"So, it is you. Good to know my source didn't screw me over." He says slyly. My body is trembling at the sound of his voice. I nearly drop the phone. My fear must have registered. Meredith grabs my free hand and squeezes it hard, looking at me, genuine concern. 'It's Derek' I mouth to her silently.

"How did you get this number?" I ask, trying to force my voice steady.

"It's interesting what you can do with a little bit of money in here." He says coolly, like a prison stay is as luxurious as a visit to the country club. "$500 on a desperate person's books and I can have almost anything I want." He continues, and I realize that he must have gotten access to a cell phone, and paid someone to find my number, someone with connections on the outside, as my number is unlisted. I look at the phone again. The number he is calling from is listed as 'Unknown Caller'. I can't be certain but wouldn't there also be an intro _'an inmate from King Country Correctional Facility is attempting to reach you.'_ OR something like that if he were calling from the jails phone? Maybe I just watch too many prison dramas on TV.

"What _do_ you want?"

"I'm worried about you." He says, his voice anything but. I know they are not recording the call. If they were recording, he'd be putting on a show. "They tell me you attempted suicide." He says, putting weight on the word 'attempted' and there is malice there. I can tell what he is really saying is 'you attempted suicide, and you can't even get that right.' How would he have access to that information? My private hospital record. Would they have had to announce the reason for my absence in front of the court? How many people were in that courtroom? How many people know what I did? How many know what he did to me? I feel that dirty shame all over again. I want to scrub my skin down with bleach until I bleed.

"I'm fine." I automatically answer. I don't know why I say it. Maybe I just don't want to get into this with him right now, or ever really. He will never understand what he's done to me.

"You're not fine Addison, since when did 'I'm fine' actually ever mean that you're anything that even almost resembles OK?" He replies, and I grind my teeth hard until I feel pain. I am afraid to hang up. If he got my phone number what other information does, he have about me? I mean it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know where I am staying. Naturally, I would go back to my child's father. He is not here, but a shiver runs up my spine. I can smell his breath against my face with each word.

"How's Meredith doing? I know you're treating her at the hospital for Preterm labor. How is the baby? How's Dakota does he like little Emmerson?" I feel like I am living in a bad dream. How does he know where I am? How does he know that Meredith is in the hospital, or that Emmerson and Dakota are together with Mark? My legs turn to jelly and I really do drop the phone this time. I leave it on the ground longer than I should, afraid to pick it up. Not knowing if I can bend down to get it without falling myself. He screams my name so loud that Meredith jumps, and I shakily pick the phone up off the ground.

"I asked you a question." He growled when he could hear me on the other line. I look over to Meredith, silently asking permission to discuss her situation with him. She shakes her head no, in a pleading sort of way and whispers 'please don't.' I might as well have Derek on speakerphone for as loud as he is speaking, she's able to hear everything anyway. Fury replaces my fear.

"You don't get to ask about them, you called my phone." I say, not sure where I am finding my strength. If he were here my cheek would have earned me a slap across the mouth, or maybe a black eye, depending on how generous he was feeling.

"She won't answer hers." He confesses, and then "They are my family. I have a right to know!"

"I was your family!" I shoot back. "You screwed up; you don't have a right to anything anymore. I pray every night your prison mates show you every bit of kindness you showed me."

"Please Addison, I just want to know how my baby is doing, Meredith, she has a hard time carrying a pregnancy. You know how better than anyone how difficult that is."

"Why do you want to know?" I demand callously "Are you hoping you can get released on bail and kill her baby like you killed ours?". I hear what he is saying, but the guilt overwhelms me again. I regret that I was so overcome with grief for a baby I thought was dead that I didn't want anything to do with her birth. How different would have things been? Would I have decided to keep her instead of sending her away like we had originally planned? Would I have been able to escape with two children? My arms, and my heart feel so empty thinking of her.

"I _never_ hurt her Addison. She was born blue and not breathing. The cord was wrapped four times around her neck, but it was obvious she had passed in the womb before birth." His voice catches here, like one does when you are trying not to cry. "I tried CPR for over an hour. It was too late; she was already gone."

"Funny how the _autopsy report_ says something completely different." I leave Amelia out of this. I don't want him coming after her next if he hasn't already. "How long did you let our daughter cry before you killed her Derek?"

"I didn't kill her!" He is _actually_ crying now. "Addison I'm sorry you're hurting, but I would never harm our baby! I can't believe that after all of the miscarriages, and the stillbirths, you really think I would do something to her?!"

"Your word doesn't inspire trust after what you did to me."

"I did you a favor. I let you take the boy and leave."

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you really think Meredith just happened upon you?" He asked, almost laughing. "There's no freaking way. She's not that smart." He says, playfully, and I feel a sense of betrayal, and self-doubt begins to kick in. Are they trying to dupe me? Are they working together in some sort of fucked up plan to ….to what? I don't know, destroy me comes to mind, but that seems a little too dramatic for my taste.

' _I stood up for you in court'_ Meredith's words play back again in my head, and I know that I am wrong. She wouldn't be working with Derek. Not now. Now she wants what's best for her unborn child. I have to believe that.

"We're not talking about her now." I say, shaking my head, conflicted. Not sure what to believe.

"Oh, but we need to be. She only found you because I told her where to look." He says laughter in is tone. I frown over at her, my face pale. Is there any truth in this? "You're only free because I let you go…" He says, and then proceeds to threaten me, telling me the horrible things that will happen if I tell anyone he's called, all while sounding thoroughly amused before he hangs up the phone.

"Are you OK?" Meredith asks meticulously, breaking the heavy silence.

"I …." I what? I try to stop my body from trembling. Force myself to take several deep breaths to slow my racing heart.

"He's lying Addison." She justifies when I can't find my words.

"What happened that night?" I demand, and now it is her turn for silence. "I need to know the truth, or I am walking out. I will walk out and I will have no guilt over leaving your life, and your baby's life in the hands of some nervous OB intern." She looks uncomfortable, she adjusts herself on the bed and whimpers a little. I look to the monitors. She is having mild contractions again, I check the duration, thirty minutes, the amount of time I was on the phone with Derek, and then after. I adjust the dosage on her IV meds just slightly increasing the medication. This confirms my initial thought that her body does not handle pregnancy well because she is under too much stress. I feel a twinge of sympathy towards her. My words were too harsh. You can't fake your body having a physical reaction like that.

"I didn't know you were there." She says, quietly. "In Room." She clarifies.

"What happened?"

"Addison please don't leave." She whispers. "He never let me know where you were, I thought he was cheating or…. Something. I pretended to be asleep and then watched him on the security camera. Every night he kept returning to the storage shed, staying for around an hour, and then leaving again. I had no idea what he was doing."

"Why should I trust you?"

"My life and my children's lives are in your hands. You could give me the wrong dose of medication and kill me and this baby in a second if you wanted to. Dakota is staying at your house. His safety and wellbeing is at your mercy. Do you really think I would want to be on your bad side right now?"

"I guess you're right, I'm sorry Meredith."

"You should be."

"I would never hurt you, or your children."

"When I found you, I thought you were dead you were skeletal. Almost unrecognizable, your breathing was there, but it was so slow. The image of you laying on the dirty floor of that room, of Emmerson next to you screaming terrified, everytime I close my eyes that's what I see. It doesn't matter that you're OK now. I can't get the image of what he did to you out of my head, and then they showed images of all of your injuries, and then the baby at trial and I just- I just couldn't defend that." I am caught off guard when she mentions the baby.

"You saw her?" I ask my voice gasping for air. I have to sit down. I know that after she had been improperly buried for as long as she had she would have decomposed to just her bones.

"Yeah." She said carefully. "They showed her autopsy report, and several pictures of her remains that were taken during the autopsy." She is crying, and I look at her, almost pathetically. How is it that I am not crying but she is? Maybe it's because I have had more time to process, or maybe I am just too numb.

"I'm sorry. All of this is just… it's new to me… I know this is all unprofessional I just -" I apologize again. "The main thing is making sure you and this baby make it to term. Once you've delivered, we can go on about our lives as normal."

"But will our lives really be that?"

"What?" I busy myself checking the monitors, taking her temperature, and checking the printout of the fetal monitor. Everything is back to how it was before Derek called. I put the machine pumping the medication into her back on to it's original setting.

"Normal?"

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" I murmur, and then look up as the door opens, and Mark walks in. He sees the look on my face and comes to me, pulling me close and wrapping his arms around me. This makes things worse. He has been my safety net during this whole thing. Just having him close to me makes me want to cry. I want to release all of this anxiety and rage I am feeling.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"Where are the boys?" I counter immediately, looking around to see if they had come in behind him and delayed by the door, but they are not here.

"Amelia volunteered to keep them; she has the day off today. I'm sorry, I know you really wanted to see Emmerson, but I thought it might be better to allow them to sleep."

"It's OK." I say, trying not to sound too disappointed. "They will have a lot more fun at home together, maybe Amelia can take them to the park or something later on."

"So, are either of you going to tell me what's going on? Meredith, your text sounded…. Weird, and then your phone was turned back off. Is the baby ok?"

"You texted Mark?" I accuse, looking over to Meredith.

"He needed to know." She gives me a small apologetic smile. "The baby is fine." Meredith says confidently. I nod in agreement when Mark looks down at me.

"We will start slowly weaning her off the magnesium over the next 24 hours. If the contractions do not return after 24 hours of hospital bedrest, she will be released home on bedrest orders."

"So, what is it then?" He asks, and I look down at my hands, pressing down hard on the purlicue between my thumb and forefinger. I can't look at Mark. If I make eye contact with him, I will start to cry, and I don't want to cry in front of Meredith. 'Montgomery children don't cry in public.' I hear my mothers voice in my head, the thread I need to keep myself sewn together.

"Derek contacted Addison." Meredith says, and I give her a look of fear, of betrayal. He had threatened me before he hung up. Informed me of what exactly would happen to me, to Mark and Emmerson if I told anyone he called. I promised him I wouldn't tell, but Meredith hadn't said a word to him. She didn't promise him anything.

"How could he contact you? He is in jail!?" Mark asks outraged, he lets me go, and I cower, stepping back a little bit. Mark would never hurt me, he has never hurt me, but old habits die hard. I am still not used to people raising their voice at me or being upset at me without physically hurting me. "Have you been keeping in touch with him?!" He demands.

"Your first instinct is to blame me?!" I ask in disbelief, shaking my head at him.

"No, baby…." He quickly corrects himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." He pulls me back to him and hugs me tightly. "We're going to figure this out… are you OK?"

"I'm fine." I say, allowing myself a second, just a quick moment in time to rest my head on Mark's shoulder. "I'm used to this I am…. I'm sure it's just empty threats." I try and ease Mark's fear, but I cannot even truly soothe myself. The unwelcome tears come stinging my cheeks and soaking the shoulder of his shirt.

"I just want things to be normal again." I murmur.

"I know sweetie… me too." Mark pushes my hair away from my face, and our eyes lock. I try to see the calm in the storm. "me too".

* * *

 **Authors note:**

Wow. That was exceptionally long, but it feels good to write again. I know some will not like what Meredith had to say, but it occurred to me that things may not have been so perfect between him and Meredith, and while he never did the exact same things with her, and treated her much better than Addison it makes sense to me.


End file.
